


Grow

by solisaureus



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Custom MU, F/F, Flirting, Love at First Sight, One-Sided Attraction, Slow Burn, a burn at the pace of a brisk walk, chrom and FMU friendship, chrom/olivia (background), compulsory heterosexuality, slow-ish, sully/sumia (background)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solisaureus/pseuds/solisaureus
Summary: Fleur, the new tactician of the Shepherds, is blown away by how lovely the troubled new Pegasus Knight, Cordelia, is upon their first meeting. She feels drawn to her automatically, but Cordelia has a lot of emotional growth to go through before she can even recognize Fleur's affection.





	1. Chapter 1

The last few hours spent supporting Chrom while he raged on the road home to Ylisstol and sitting through debriefing meetings with Phila and Emmeryn had really taken it out of the Shepherds' new tactician. Chrom's instant belief in her had inspired Fleur to trust him in turn and as a result the two had become very close very quickly, to the point where the Prince of Ylisse had become this homeless nobody's best friend. She thought he was her best friend, anyway. She might have another in her past life, but no one had come forth to claim her. In contrast, she was fairly certain Chrom would at least try to find her if she suddenly went missing, so by that logic he was her best friend. But gods above, if befriending him wasn't the most entangling, high-maintenance endeavor in all the realms. Fleur was starting to wonder if she was really up to the task she'd taken on.

Slinging off her heavy robe and freeing her burdened shoulders, she rubbed the back of her neck and sighed on the way out from the castle's audience hall toward the stable where her pegasus was being held. Being around animals always calmed her, and Killer was a good companion. Grooming him would soothe her mind.

Fleur swung open the doors to the stables and was slightly taken aback to see that someone was already there. Squinting at the woman's lengths of brilliant red hair, she remembered her as the sole survivor of the Pegasus Knights who had come to the Shepherds with a frantic warning that ended up saving the Exalt's life. In fact, Captain Phila had just been discussing her in their debriefing meeting. _Cordelia was the youngest Knight in her regiment, and now she is the only one,_ Phila had said, her voice sounding tired like it had run a hundred miles. _I never imagined that all of the senior Knights could be eliminated at once. That girl is the only one who saw it and lived. It must have been a scene of catastrophic violence._

The poor woman looked like she was struggling to breathe. “You okay there, lady?” Fleur ventured, feeling guilty walking in on someone else's emotional pegasus time. Killer must have sensed her presence because she heard demanding whinnies sounding from across the stable, but she put his needs on the back burner in favor of talking down this troubled yet enchanting stranger. 

Cordelia startled like a bell had been struck by her ear, stiffening up and facing Fleur with a transparently fake smile on her face. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she said in a clipped voice. 

Fleur wasn't sure whether she was expected to buy into such a blatant lie. She wasn't stupid and she could recognize an emotionally compromised human being when she saw one. She nearly nodded in dismissal and turned to find Killer, but something in her gut made her stay put and engage. Fleur had never spoken to this woman before but something about her screamed instability and she couldn't in good conscience just leave her alone. 

“I find that doubtful,” she said. “Something terrible happened to you today, didn't it?”

A shadow of surprise passed over Cordelia’s face, like she wasn’t used to being challenged on her emotional cover-ups. Sincerity almost took hold of her, but she shook her head instead. “Something bad did happen, but not to me. On the contrary I’m extraordinarily fortunate to be standing here right now.” 

Fleur hesitated, then blew a sigh through her lips and approached her. “You don't have to pretend to be fine. You went through something horrible. I would be in far worse shape than you if I had seen what you saw.” She tucked a lock of sandy hair behind her ear and looked down, a little flustered by the emotional pep talk she was giving to this stranger. “I know you don't know me, but you're not alone...and you're not the only Pegasus Knight left.”

A genuine smile flashed across Cordelia’s lips and she looked down bashfully. “Thank you for your kind words. No one could replace my fallen sisters, but if you are a Pegasus Knight like me then perhaps...we could become close in time.” 

The dark whirlpools behind the woman's eyes faded for a brief moment when she smiled, and all of Fleur's language processing became jumbled. Naga's breath, she was literally radiant. Fleur had seen and appreciated some pretty women in her time but gods, this stranger had a face like an ancient statue preserved to cultured perfection despite the ravaging tides of time. Skin smooth as sea-beaten glass sloping over her cheekbones, expressive eyes shimmering with the threat of tears, red hair like soft feathers surrounding her face and torso and giving her the vague appearance of a velvet-robed queen. 

Fleur noticed belatedly that she'd been spoken to. 

“Um, right,” she said gracelessly. “You seem...great! You're great. That sounds super great. Oh! Um, I'm Fleur, in case you didn't know already. I'm Chrom's new tactician. And I believe you are Cordelia, if my memory of Captain Phila’s report serves?”

She nodded and held out her hand. “Yes, I’m Cordelia. It is a pleasure to meet you, and do tell me if there is anything I can do to serve you and my lord Chrom.”

Cordelia seemed somewhat dismissive and Fleur wondered if she had noticed her staring. Most people in the Shepherds knew she was drawn to women by now as she made no point to hide her inclinations, but she couldn't help but feel a little anxious at the prospect of pushing Cordelia away. She backed off a little, but shook her hand warmly and offered a friendly smile. “Your services and your allegiance are appreciated, Cordelia. I know I can handle myself, but Naga knows that Chrom needs all the help he can get. He's certainly a handful,” she joked.

A sudden blush rose into the woman’s face. “Ah, you work right alongside Lord Chrom, yes? Are you close? How close? What is he like?” 

Oh, Fleur thought, her heart sinking in her chest. I've got another royal admirer on my hands. She tried not to betray her disappointment that she'd gotten her hopes up for another Chrom-crazed girl. Honestly, she should be used to it by now, but somehow it always took her by surprise. She supposed Chrom was kind of a pretty guy and he had a sort of inept charm about him, but aside from that and of course his noble standing Fleur could never understand why so many people fawned over him. She loved him, certainly, he was a great companion, but there was no way she could see anything beyond that in him. 

But Cordelia seemed flustered, so Fleur chuckled lightly to ease her tension. “Right, yeah, we work together. He's a great friend to me, kind of a thoughtless idiot sometimes and he loves to make my job unnecessarily hard, but he did save my life and give me a purpose so I guess I shouldn't speak too harshly of him,” she laughed. “Why the interest?”

“Oh, no reason of note,” Cordelia lied again. “I simply admire him and I wish to devote myself in service of him. It would be nice to really meet him someday.” 

Fleur looked at Cordelia's distant gaze and felt sorry for her. She apparently didn't even know Chrom and had dedicated all her life to the idea of him. Fleur felt that even without any memories of her own life she had wasted it less than Cordelia and other women like her. A knight as prodigious, as admirable as Cordelia should be living her life for herself. 

“Well, your dedication is honored by both of us,” she said, her voice sounding like it could be blown over by a breeze. “But you need to look after yourself too. You may not know it but your health matters just as much as mine or Chrom's.” Fleur patted the neck of Cordelia's pegasus and gave her one more smile. “I apologize for interrupting your bonding time. I hope to see you around soon.” 

She hoped Killer would forgive her for not brushing his coat to a sheen this afternoon, but she couldn’t stand there and continue making a fool of herself. Somehow she felt cursed to only entertain crushes on women whose eyes were staunchly fixed on men, inclined to hand out her affection to their closed hearts like candy. She had one job to do and wouldn’t let that purpose become muddled by complicated feelings for her soldiers. Straightening her shoulders, she turned around and walked out of the stables back to the palace. 

\--

After 3 days of marching through Plegian desert wasteland and pausing every 10 minutes to dump sand out of her boots, Fleur was starting to consider whether walking barefoot for the rest of the way would be worth the burns she'd inflict on her feet. She had stopped complaining early on, because Chrom had offered to carry her and she couldn't tell how serious he was being, so she silently dismissed it and was now too afraid to make another comment in case he wasn't joking. 

On top of the physical sandy costs, the whole march had been perfused with tension; everyone was worried about Exalt and Fleur was no exception. The increasingly overt acts of aggression on Plegia's behalf had come to a head with the kidnapping of Ylisse’s Exalt, and the possibility that Emmeryn, the principle peacekeeper, could be eliminated from the political scene was downright terrifying. But even though Fleur was anxious about the stakes, she didn't quite have the personal drive to rescue Emmeryn that most of her comrades were burning with now. She had caught Lissa staring off into space more than once, and Frederick was antsier than usual, quadruple-checking the army's stock and hovering over healers as they worked on the most minor wound. 

Chrom in particular seemed like he was going to fly off the handle at any moment. Almost more than Gangrel's warmongering, Fleur was concerned about the intimacy between Chrom's emotions and his impulse control. His tendency to take every act of enemy aggression personally was going to get him, and the rest of the Shepherds, gravely hurt. 

Between all that and the fact that the army had unintentionally picked up a thought-extinct manakete and one of her mercenary pursuers along the way, Fleur had a lot to worry about, but somehow there was still room in her tumultuous mind for thoughts of Cordelia’s welfare. Everyone in the army had their own personal battle to fight, but it seemed that the timing of multiple disastrous events in Cordelia’s life was far too close for comfort. Telling herself that her concern was sourced strictly from professional responsibility, she excused herself from the front lines and fell back to where the Pegasus Knight was marching, unsubtly sidling up beside her. 

“Are you as sick of this sand as I am yet?” she asked lightheartedly.

Tension slid off of Cordelia’s shoulders and she seemed to welcome Fleur’s company. “Fortunately, my boots are high enough that sand doesn’t really get inside them,” she remarked. 

“Oh, so that’s the reason they’re so tall. There’s one mystery solved.” 

Cordelia giggled, sending a flutter through Fleur’s chest. “If you’re bothered by marching through sand, you could always just fly,” she suggested. 

Fleur waved her hand. “Nah, Killer needs to save his energy for the battle. He wouldn’t like it if I just used him as a transport vehicle. He’s too much of a proud war horse.” 

“You named your pegasus ‘Killer?’” Cordelia said incredulously, a glint of amusement in her eye. 

Shrugging, Fleur said, “I lost a bet with Sully. You’re new so I’ll warn you now: never get drinks with that woman. She will make you regret it. And what did you name your steed, anyway, that’s so much more dignified than ‘Killer?’”

“Her name is Caeda, after the bride of the Hero-King, one of history’s greatest Pegasus Knights.”

“Well, I suppose that’s about as dignified as it gets,” Fleur admitted.

A passing smile fell over Cordelia’s face before it became grim suddenly and she looked away. “What’s the matter?” Fleur asked, worrying if she had said something wrong.

Cordelia sighed and then met her eyes. “Fleur...you are the tactician of this army. How are you not anxious about the Exalt when the responsibility to retrieve her rests with you? I myself am merely a soldier and yet I can barely tame my fears.”

Fleur pursed her lips. “Believe me, I know the influence my actions in the near future will have on the state of the world, and it weighs on me just as heavily as you’d imagine. But...you know, I’ve already made my plans. I’ve done as much as I can to prepare. Would it put you at ease to see me making rushed decisions and changing my mind on the road to the battle?”

“I suppose it would seem too late now to form a strategy…”

“Exactly. There’s no point in me worrying out of my own head at this point.”

“You make it sound so easy. Like you can just decide how to feel and then feel it,” Cordelia said. “I know I should act and feel a certain way, and I try to, but I can’t. And then I become helpless and frustrated with myself and that only makes it worse.

Fleur hummed. “In times like these, no one can expect you to be consistent in your emotions. You’re here, you’re doing as much as you can, and that’s the only thing I care about. All that’s left is for you to be gentle with yourself and grow.”

For a moment Cordelia didn’t respond, only looking up at Fleur with something like tentative vulnerability harbored behind her eyes. She had just opened her mouth to speak when Frederick materialized out of thin air beside Fleur, startling them both when he cleared his throat. “Apologies for the interruption, Fleur, but you are needed at the front lines. Khan Flavia has met up with our army and we are approaching Plegia Castle.”

Sighing through her nose, Fleur conceded to part with Cordelia for the time being to do her job. There would be time aplenty to socialize once this cursed battle was through and the Exalt was free to instill peace in the realm. Leaving Cordelia with an apologetic smile, the tactician was whisked away by Frederick to prepare for battle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fleur, Cordelia, and Chrom deal with the aftermath of Emmeryn's loss.

The wind, which had been whipping sand and grit in everyone’s eyes all throughout their arduous struggle to the courtyard, had settled down to a disquieting whisper when the Mad King came forth with his terms. Fleur looked to Chrom, whose furious gaze was fixed on Gangrel, his jaw tightened with both determination and rage. It was clear how Chrom wanted to answer this negotiation, and even far away on that delicate ledge Fleur knew what the Exalt was thinking as well. Her confidence prior to the battle haunted her now that she was facing her disastrous failure and forced to surrender either her nation’s beloved leader or the very fate of the world. Her heart sank in her chest with the decision she knew had to be made. 

Before them, Gangrel demanded an answer. Risen archers filled the courtyard, the gleaming tips of each of their arrows aimed perfectly at the Exalt high above them, the creaking of their wooden bows ticking away the seconds. The gruesome bodies of the elite Pegasus Knights, still wet with blood, seemed to stare at them pleadingly. Chrom turned to Fleur, desperation twisting his brows. _You have to have the solution,_ his tempestuous eyes seemed to say. _You have to work this miracle._

Fleur bit down her shame and said, "Chrom, I...we...there's nothing we can do. We have no choice but to sacrifice--"

" _Don't!_ Don't say it," Chrom snapped, his voice sharp. Fleur averted her gaze to the dusty clouds of sand at her feet, her stomach turning cold. Chrom went on to ignore her and initiate his surrender with Gangrel, offering him the Fire Emblem in exchange for the peacekeeper. And then Emmeryn interrupted them, her voice sounding so quiet even though it resonated across the courtyard. As the Exalt gazed out through the sky, taking a delicate step closer to the edge, all sounds on the ground below were magnified. No one spoke a word, but Fleur could hear the scrape of sand under a hundred boots, the rapid breathing of the prince next to her, her own heart thrashing in her chest. And as Emmeryn's body tipped forward and fell, the world was muted in both color and sound. Fleur felt Chrom sprint away from her side, she saw Lissa collapse to her right, but she could not move a muscle or direct her eyes away from Emmeryn's descent. Every flutter of her robes, her tightly clasped hands, every glint of her golden hair caught by the harsh sunlight was engraved into Fleur's mind so that she would never forget this failure. And when her body struck the earth with a grotesque crack, Fleur closed her eyes and sound returned to her ears just in time to hear Chrom screaming his sister's name in bereaved agony many paces away.

While the Exalt's fall seemed to happen in slow motion, the subsequent events all happened too fast. Gangrel swiftly vanished from the premises after issuing orders to execute the remaining Shepherds. The Khans rushed into the courtyard, announcing that they'd tentatively secured an escape route, and everyone needed to flee immediately if they were to live. Frederick lifted Lissa, who had fainted, and situated her limp form in front of him on his horse. All around Fleur, people were filing away, but she was numbly frozen where she was. 

And then she realized Chrom was still at his knees near Emmeryn's fall. With great effort, she managed to lift her feet in his direction, and each step picked up pace until she was running in great strides towards Chrom. But when she reached him, she felt paralyzed. The echo of what she had told him moments before his sister took the choice out of their hands hung between them like murky fog. 

"Chrom...I’m --" she began, reaching out tentatively toward the prince's hunched shoulders.

"Don't," Chrom seethed. Fleur could hear the tears in his voice. 

Fleur withdrew her hand before it made contact. She took a slow breath through her nose and spoke again, this time as his tactician. "Captain, the Khans have secured an exit route, but it can't be maintained for long. We must make haste if we are to leave this place alive."

Slowly, Chrom stood with his back to her . "Will you help me carry her body?" he said, his voice eerily even.

Fleur hesitated. Her heart urged her to say yes, but with the rest of the army already ahead of them and Gangrel's men closing in more with every second, they couldn't afford the extra weight.

Chrom took Fleur's silence as an answer. "Fine," he spat, turning and brushing past her without meeting her eyes. Fleur watched as Chrom broke into a run to catch up with the others, then she turned and gave one last regretful look to the Exalt's broken corpse before tearing herself away and following the prince. 

\--

Hesitant raindrops quickly transformed into a smothering deluge, the dust beneath the army’s feet turning into mud that sucked them into the earth and slowed them down when they were already beset by grief. Khan Basilio was uncharacteristically stern, yelling the orders that Chrom was too emotionally distant to issue. He had appointed an escort to take them out of Plegia, and he seemed desperate to rally everyone’s wallowing spirits just enough to reach her. 

“March like your lives depend on it!” he bellowed, his voice accentuated by the crack of distant thunder. “Shake off the rain, rise above the sludge, there’s not far left to go! There are dry clothes and warm beds waiting for you if you just -- Ah!” 

An arrow, flung out of the dark mist by an unseen archer, struck Basilio’s golden pauldron and rang it like a bell. He lurched forward slightly before springing into retaliation. “Damn, it’s an ambush! Fleur! Organize your troops! We have to get out of here alive!”

Fleur nodded in understanding and spurred her pegasus, rising into the air with a few powerful pumps of his enormous wings, though not high enough to become a target for the nearby archer. It was difficult to assess the battlefield they were working with due to the dark and the weather obscuring the terrain, but she could at least see a few enemy wyvern knights waiting above the muddy dunes and occupied fortresses in the direction of their escort’s location. Her mind opened up and laid out a strategy, and she barked orders to her soldiers according to its detail. Chrom was compromised and needed to be guarded, but Frederick was still hindered by Lissa’s unconscious weight, so she directed the Khans to stay near him and keep him safe. As for herself and the other pegasus riders, she stayed behind the front lines to support their mages and healers since she still had no way of telling where the archers were.

It was one of the most painful battles yet; not just because of the unforgiving terrain and the despair of their troops, but even the enemy soldiers seemed unwilling to raise their weapons. Every altercation was a trial laden with harsh emotion, driven solely by the need to survive the day. Fleur was striking down infantrymen left and right, giving Ricken, Miriel, and the new dark mage who defected to their side in the last battle the space and safety to cast their tomespells. As a Plegian axe fighter fell to his knees by her lance, Fleur caught the sight of brilliant red hair flying wildly in the distance as Cordelia struggled to fight off half a dozen enemies at once. She was tired and wounded...she was going to lose.

“Sumia, Gregor, cover the mages!” she shouted, diving forward through the rain toward Cordelia’s side, Killer’s wings folded neatly as he galloped forth. Fleur ejected herself from her saddle once she neared the scene, sprinting and screaming as she charged forward and skewered a myrmidon through the back. 

Cordelia seemed dazed, still barely hanging on to her grounded pegasus as she swiveled her head and squinted at Fleur standing there, heaving and holding a lance dripping with blood. Layers of mud covered Cordelia’s clothes and smudged her face, but rivers of violent red could still be seen streaming everywhere on her body. “F...Fleur?” she mumbled. “No...g-go back…”

An archer saw his opportunity and let an arrow fly into Cordelia’s shoulder, lodging itself in the opening between her pauldron and her breastplate. She cried out and clutched the shaft of the arrow, sliding off of her saddle. Caeda rose into the air, alarmed by the overwhelming onset of enemies and the loss of her rider, but her wings were quickly shot and she fell to the ground, backing into the wall of the dune behind her. Fleur’s mind went white and then brilliant red, and she lunged toward Cordelia, her lance flashing like the lightning above them as it sliced and stabbed through enemies’ bodies. She fought like a berserker, crazed and bruising, undeterred by the bite of her foes’ weapons as though she couldn’t feel pain. When the attackers had all fallen by Fleur’s lance, she mindlessly dropped her weapon in the mud, breathless and bleeding and abandoned by logical thought.

She ran past the frightened pegasus and rushed to Cordelia’s side, wiping the mud away from her face as best as she could. The shaft of the arrow had snapped when she fell and was still sticking out of her body like a broken bone. But she was alive and miraculously conscious, looking up at her savior through the water in her eyes. “It’s not...safe for you,” she whispered with great effort. 

Fleur let a half-laugh, half-sob sort of sound out from her chest. “Why can’t you be worried about yourself? Why the hell did you go off alone? You were very nearly killed!”

Though they flowed seamlessly into the streams of raindrops on her cheeks, Fleur could see the tears running from Cordelia’s eyes. “I didn’t...do enough,” she said, wheezing through her pain. “I didn’t save her...I wasn’t good enough…I wasn’t good enough…!” 

“I need a healer!” Fleur shouted over her shoulder. She didn’t know whether the battle was still going on, whether enemies could have just heard her distress call, but all that mattered in this moment was getting Cordelia to safety. She whistled for Killer to come to her and thanked the gods that he was unharmed. It was stupid of her to leave him like that, but she was caught in such a flurry of blind rage that she hadn’t thought of anything but protecting Cordelia. 

She started to lift Cordelia’s shoulders off the ground. “Can you stand? You’re going to be okay, friend. Let’s get you out of here.” 

The wounded woman tried to get her legs beneath her and upright, but she relied heavily on Fleur to raise her from the ground and half-carry her to her pegasus. Maribelle came trotting over shortly, bringing news that the general had been defeated and that their escort was ready to move out. The two of them struggled to get Cordelia onto Killer’s back, and Fleur went back to take the wounded pegasus’s reins and calm her down as they made way to the north edge of the battlefield. 

Under Naga’s protection, the Shepherds managed to escape Plegia safely with the help of Olivia, the beautiful dancer who served as the escort appointed by Khan Basilio. Healers worked on Cordelia as well as her pegasus on the road back to Regna Ferox, but Fleur could not leave her side. The threat of the woman’s death jarred a reluctant realization out of her: she was special to her and Fleur would make great sacrifices and wildly stupid choices to preserve her health and happiness. There was no going back; devotion had taken root in her heart and was only going to grow. 

\--

Once the army was safely settled in the Longfort in the heart of Regna Ferox, Fleur was torn from Cordelia’s side to meet with the Ylissean royals, Frederick, and the Khans in the reception hall. She was the last one to arrive and she heard the echoes of her footsteps reverberating through the hall, amplifying the tension in the hall and the shame in her lateness. 

She could tell that Chrom was still upset with her for what she said in the Plegian castle courtyard. He didn’t meet her eyes and spoke directly to her as little as possible. Fleur tried not to take it to heart -- she felt guilty for hurting him but she knew that grief and strenuous circumstances were in large part responsible for his hostile demeanor. If blaming her was what he needed to do to heal, she would take his cold shoulder for now. She would talk to him in earnest later, when the raging tides of his sorrow had ebbed somewhat. 

Because of Chrom’s uncooperative attitude, Lissa’s dissociative state, and the general exhaustion from the past few days, not much got done in the post-battle meeting. After half an hour of unproductive and tiresome talk, Khan Flavia decided it would be better to decide on a course of action after everyone had rested for some time and adjourned the meeting. 

With a day of free time, Fleur tried to occupy herself with useful pastimes, checking in on some of the wearier Shepherds and making sure inventory was well-stocked. But her thoughts were persistently occupied with worry over Cordelia’s welfare, and as much as she tried to keep herself away from the healers’ station it was only a matter of time before she found herself knocking on the door. 

The door swung back to reveal Maribelle, who looked more worn out than she had ever allowed herself to seem before. Her curls were disheveled, pulled out from their usual neat ringlets, and her eyes were bloodshot from both exhaustion and weeping. “Fleur. Are you hurt?” she said.

“I’m fine, I just came to visit someone, if that’s alright,” Fleur said. She wondered if she was imposing upon a busy healer and was hesitant to get in her way.

“Which patient are you here to see?” Maribelle asked, the pitch of her voice low and monotone. 

“Um, is Cordelia still here?” she tried to say without fidgeting under her intense gaze.

Maribelle nodded. “Yes, she is stable now. You may visit for a bit. Come in.” 

As she followed Maribelle into the room she passed a dozen seats and cots occupied by wounded people. Sully was laid up with a few broken ribs and a concussion, trying to keep a brave face as she chatted it up with Sumia, who had brought her flowers and was keeping her company. The monk who had joined the Shepherds on their approach to the courtyard, Libra, was already busy treating Feroxi soldiers as well as poor Donnel, who was asleep and nursing a sword wound on his abdomen. Fleur made a mental note to approach Libra with welcome and thanks when she had a moment. 

A cot beside a window at the back of the room was where Cordelia lay, awake and looking serenely at the falling snow. She wore a loose white shirt lent to her by the healers, and Fleur could see edges of bandages peeking out from under her collar. Her hair and face were clean and free of mud, and the lively color in her cheeks was a breath of fresh air to Fleur’s anxiety. She stood at the end of Cordelia’s cot and smiled when she looked over at her from the window. 

“You didn’t have to visit me,” was the first thing Cordelia said. Her face was solemn, not returning the smile Fleur had offered her.

Fleur waved her hand. “What, seriously? The last time I saw you you were on the verge of death! Let me tell you how much of a relief it is to see you safely away from it. How are you feeling?” she asked as she took a seat by the bedside.

“I’m alright, or I will be” Cordelia said. “Thank you for coming to my aid yesterday. I...owe you my life.”

“You scared the spit out of me, going off to fight alone like that. I told you to stay back. Why didn’t you?” Fleur had asked her this before on the battlefield, but Cordelia’s response then had been perplexing and more than a little worrisome. 

Cordelia’s brows drew together and she looked away from Fleur’s gaze. She was quiet for so long that Fleur worried she wasn’t going to get an answer this time. “I wasn’t thinking straight,” she said at length, and sighed. “I’m sorry to have disobeyed your orders.” 

“I didn’t come here to lecture you,” Fleur said, although if this were any other soldier she probably would have grilled them about the importance of sticking to a combat strategy and how one errant action can cost the whole army the victory. But she was so relieved that Cordelia was alright that she let it slide. “And besides, we got home safe so no harm done.”

“The Exalt and the Captain of the Pegasus Knights are dead at the hands of the enemy. There is nothing to celebrate. I cannot even be grateful for my own life when much greater lives were lost.” 

“Look, Cordelia, that wasn’t your fault --”

“Wasn’t it?” Cordelia said, almost snapped. Her eyes were rimmed red and glistening with tears. “My whole life is dedicated to the service and protection of Ylisse’s Exalt, and yet she is lying dead while I’ve woken up to see another day. I should have died before I let Her Grace fall. My sisters all gave their lives to ensure I survived to protect the Exalt, and in vain. Now there is nothing for me to live for.”

Fleur suddenly recalled what she had thought of when she first met Cordelia: that someone as remarkable as her should be living her life for herself. “I’m sorry, but that is a foolish thing to say.”

Cordelia sniffled. “I beg your pardon?”

“Cordelia, the world still needs you. The Shepherds need you...and I need you, too. How could you say your sisters died for nothing when you’re still here and fighting? It may have been their duty to sacrifice themselves for Emmeryn, but they also chose _you_ to live.”

A hot tear rolled down Cordelia’s cheek and she looked out the window. “Then they chose wrong.” 

Emotion caught in Fleur’s throat, and she stuttered for a moment but then thought better of it. Standing up, she said softly, “Rest well. The fight isn’t over yet,” and then she turned to go.

\--

The next day was tense and restless, with Cordelia wanting to be alone and Chrom still mad at Fleur. At least there was something she could do about one of those problems. Around dinnertime, she found Chrom sulking at a table by himself with a sad-looking plate of peas and mashed potatoes. She filled up a couple of chilled pints of ale and clunked one down in front of him. 

“You look like you could use one of these,” she said when he looked up at her, surprised. 

Chrom shrugged and raised it to his lips. “You’re not wrong.” 

Taking a swig of her own mug, Fleur sat down next to the prince and leaned forward on her elbows, staring at Chrom as he drank. Even when he finished chugging half the pint, he didn’t meet her eyes. With a sigh, Fleur said, “Look, Chrom, I owe you an apology. What I said in the courtyard was stupid -- I was most afraid of what Gangrel might do with the Emblem and I let that lead my thoughts. But I regret saying what I said, and I’m sorry.”

The prince peeked at her out of the side of his eye and pursed his lips. But after a moment his shoulders sagged and he put a hand on Fleur’s back. “You’re forgiven, friend. And I apologize for speaking to you harshly since then.” 

Fleur waved her hand. “I wouldn’t be so nice either if I’d been through what you’re going through. And that’s another thing I should apologize for...my plan wasn’t enough. You lost your sister because of my bad strategy.”

“You did your best,” Chrom said, shaking his head. “You have my thanks. It’s my own failures that haunt me now. Gods, I was just so powerless!” he said angrily, pounding his fist on the table. 

Fleur wondered why she was surrounded by people who blamed themselves for an atrocity they had no part in committing. “It’s not your fault either, Chrom.” 

“She did it for me, Fleur.” His voice was shaking now. “So that I wouldn't have to live with the guilt of either choice, she chose for me. She sacrificed herself rather than give up what could one day save her people.” Chrom turned away to pinch his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. 

“Chrom, stop it. Listen to me. Look at me,” Fleur demanded, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning him toward her. 

She sighed and said, “Look, I was powerless once, too, remember? And yes, alone, I don't think either one of us is half the person your sister was. But together...maybe we can be even more. If you fall, I'll be there to pull you back up. When you fight for your sister's ideals, I'll be by your side.” She released her friend’s shoulder and sat back. “You don't have to become your sister, you know. You can still be true to yourself. You just have to give people hope in whatever way you can.”

“And what if I can't? What if I'm not worthy of her ideals?” He was openly weeping now. “Fleur, what if I just drag you down with me?”

Fleur tried to smile. “If you’re not worthy, you’ll keep at it until you are. And if we both fall down, well, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?” 

A desperate-sounding cry-laugh came from Chrom. “If I were you I would have abandoned me by now.” 

“I’ve thought about it,” Fleur joked. “But, you know, that’s no way to repay your best friend who saved your life. Plus, you’re royalty, and if I deserted the army I’m sure you’d have some way of tracking me down and cutting my head off or whatever.”

“We don’t decapitate deserters,” Chrom said, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes. “What are you, a savage? We burn them at the stake like civilized people.” 

Fleur laughed. It was good to have this kind of lighthearted banter back. It was like medicine for a soul burdened by regret. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me anymore,” she said.

“It’s a relief to have no hard feelings between friends. Thanks for the beer,” Chrom said, raising his drink and taking a sip of it. 

“Hey, I didn’t say there were no hard feelings,” Fleur taunted. “Maybe _I’m_ mad at _you._ ”

Chrom nearly spit out his drink. “Are you?” he demanded. 

“A little bit.”

“What did I do?” 

Fleur hid her face in her mug for a moment. “You have the heart of a girl I think I’m in love with.” 

This time Chrom actually did spit out his drink. “What? Who? Olivia? Who?”

“ _Olivia?_ ” Fleur gasped. “The dancer we just met? Chrom! Seriously?”

“She’s pretty, alright?” He said, his face redder than an Elfire tome.

“Do you think I’m in love with her, or that she’s in love with you?!” Fleur was derailing from the topic she brought up a bit, but she loved to make fun of Chrom when it came to women. 

“If it’s not her, just tell me who it is!” 

Fleur rolled her eyes. “It’s Cordelia. Alright?”

A pause from Chrom, while he sat there with his mouth hanging open trying to put a face to the name. “She’s a...mmmercenary? Right?” he said slowly. 

“This is outrageous!” Fleur said, throwing her hands in the air. “You don’t even know who she is and yet she’s obsessed with you! She’s a Pegasus Knight, you undeserving buffoon!” She smacked him on the arm.

“Ow! I was kidding, I know she’s the Pegasus Knight with the red hair!” Chrom said. “But it’s true that we’ve barely met. Are you certain that she’s ‘obsessed’ with me?”

“I mean, I suppose I could be wrong, but I know that look a woman gets in her eye when she’s talking about a man she wants. I’m all too familiar with it.” 

“Well, I don’t think you should give up on her,” Chrom said, patting her back a little too hard. “We all know you’re far more of a catch than me anyway.”

Fleur snorted. “I’m glad you agree. Thanks, Chrom.” She smiled and cocked her head, raising her mug and clinking it with his. “You know what? I think we’re both going to be fine.” 

A genuine smile fell upon Chrom’s face. “I hope so.”

Fleur finished her ale and slammed it down on the table. “Hey, why don’t we round up some of the Shepherds and play that game with the mugs of beer and the little ball?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they are going to play beer pong.
> 
> One of the happy circumstances surrounding lesbian FMU is her platonic friendship with chrom!! I honestly think that relationship is soooo important even and perhaps especially without romance in the mix so I wanted to portray that in this fic.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments!!! it always means so much to me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few new relationships spring up that force Fleur to think about what she really wants.

The royal library was the first place Fleur would go when her thoughts were swarming all around her like an agitated beehive, buzzing in frantic circles and stinging her with errant worries. She was desperate to sink into one of those luxurious leather chairs that made her reluctant to ever stand again and bury her mind in a stimulating text wholly unrelated to the present. She knew people were looking for her -- court members, militia leaders, legislators, Chrom -- and she didn’t care. The only thing that had motivated her to survive the last grueling bloodbath of this gods-forsaken war was the captivating promise of an afternoon spent in this scholarly labyrinth. 

Upon pushing past the oversized, carved cherrywood doors to the library, Fleur automatically gravitated toward the section devoted to war tactics and military history like she always did, but browsing the titles lined up on the shelves only prodded at the simmering embers of the recent battle, and she was determined to get her mind off it. The slogging fight to finally bring Chrom’s blade to Gangrel’s throat was -- without contest -- the longest battle Fleur had ever had to coordinate, and it would have dragged on even longer without the invigorating dances of the tireless Olivia. Fleur would have searched out the woman to thank her after the battle, but she was surprisingly difficult to find when she wasn’t performing. How strange that someone with such alluring confidence on the battlefield would be so impossibly shy off of it. 

After the unintentional admission that had slipped out of Chrom the night she told him about her feelings for Cordelia, Fleur couldn’t help but wonder if the hours that Olivia had spent dancing for him had intensified his little crush at all. The thought of romance drew Fleur’s attention away from the strategy section of the library and toward the section that housed all the trashy novels that Sumia was so fond of. She was idly leafing through volume twenty-two of _Mad Tales of a Bloodthirsty Falcon Knight_ , wondering if submerging herself in shallow, mindless fictional romance would subdue her angsty pining toward Cordelia and her own pathetic love life, when Sully barged gracelessly into the library and approached her where she sat. Startled by the noise and alarmed by the unexpected company, Fleur hastily set the book back and tried to appear like she was browsing this sort of literature for a more dignified reason. But the raised brow and mocking smirk on Sully’s face told her that her efforts only incriminated her further. 

“I knew I’d find a bookworm like you in the library, but this? Fleur, I’m disappointed in you,” Sully said, shaking her head. 

“If you spread rumors about me, I’ll have your head on a platter,” Fleur said.

Sully barked a laugh. “I’d like to see you try. But I’m not here to poke my nose into your humiliating guilty pleasures,” she said. “I actually just wanted to tell you something.”

So much had happened in the recent past that Fleur wasn’t sure whether to expect good or bad news. She tried to sound unassuming as she said, “Well? What was so important that you had to interrupt my private Mad Tales time?” 

“I, uh...I finally asked out Sumia like you’ve been hassling me to do. And she...said yes.” Sully rubbed the back of her head and avoided eye contact. “I figured I’d tell you first since you’re the only one who knows how I feel about her.” 

Fleur abandoned her quiet library etiquette as she yelled gleefully and lifted her friend off her feet in a celebratory bear hug. “You finally got over yourself and did it, you dastard! Look at you, I’ve never seen you blush so hard!” 

“Shut your mouth and put me down!” Sully said, although she was struggling not to laugh herself. 

Fleur reluctantly complied, but she was still bubbling over with interest. “So what happened? How did it go?”

“While I was laid up in Ferox I told myself I didn’t want to die without her knowing what she means to me. And before I thought twice about it I just blurted it out.”

“You weren’t _that_ close to dying,” Fleur teased. 

“Look, I hit my head, alright?” Sully said. 

“Sounds to me like you just wanted an excuse to get it off your chest.” 

“Well, it worked. So get off my case,” Sully huffed.

Fleur tousled Sully’s cropped hair and chuckled. “And she said she’s always loved you since you were little kids, right? And now you’re together forever, never to be parted?”

Sully’s face turned redder, impossibly. “Something like that, yeah.” 

Crossing her arms, Fleur said, “I can see you’re not going to give me any more details, but I’ll let it go. I’m glad your shameful moment of vulnerable sentimentality paid off.”

“Maybe it would pay off for you too, if you would buck up and talk to Cordelia,” Sully said.

This wasn’t where Fleur had expected the conversation to go. “Did Chrom run his mouth?” she said in a low whisper, already making plans to wring the man’s neck.

Sully scoffed and slapped her friend’s back. “Chrom may be reckless and dramatic, but he’s not a gossip. I can’t believe you think I don’t see the way you make goo-goo eyes at her every damn day. Not to mention that stunt you pulled during the ambush after Plegia Castle? Don’t think I didn’t see that, or how you visited her in the infirmary afterwards. You didn’t even say hello to me!” 

Fleur groaned and put her head in her hands, sinking into the chair beside her. “I’m such a fool.”

“Aww, quit feeling sorry for yourself. You care for her, don’tcha?” 

“An unreasonable amount,” Fleur admitted. “I was this close to dying for her. She thinks that the best thing she can do with her life is to just give it up. I just...want her to know she has something to live for.”

“Then that’s a good thing, Fleur. We’ve all seen some ugly things during this war, and her more than most. You can offer her something that’s, y’know, beautiful. Don’t pass up your chance.”

Fleur scoffed, smirking up at her friend. “Since when are you known to wax poetic?” 

Rolling her eyes, Sully said, “I guess since I started getting warm fuzzies of my own.” She slapped Fleur’s arm and turned to go. “I’m just saying, if you only have courage when it comes to killing people but not loving them, what’s it even good for?” 

Fleur opened her mouth, but Sully had already left. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve even said. She turned back to her self-indulgent romance novels, but found that they just couldn’t keep her interest.

\--

Fleur dodged under the wide swing of a lance, but stepped too far and left herself open to an elbow to the stomach in punishment, forcing the wind out of her and knocking her out of balance. Rubbing her bruised rear after getting thrown to the ground for what must have been the hundredth time, she struggled back up to her feet.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go easier on you?” Cordelia said, clutching her lance and offering her hand to her fallen sparring partner.

Refusing the hand and shaking her head, Fleur said, “No, no, this is perfect. You’re doing exactly what I asked you to.”

“You said you wanted to be trained in the ways of the Pegasus Knights, not brutalized repeatedly,” Cordelia said with the hint of a smile on her lips. 

“Whatever it takes,” Fleur huffed, wiping the sweat from her brow as she readied her practice lance again. She had started to get restless her third week at the castle, occupied solely by council meetings and library time. At first she had happily leaned into all her new down time, but after a while of the same monotony she was itching for some action. She figured asking Cordelia for some personal training was a great way to solidify her role as a Pegasus Knight, and also to spend a little time with her. Now that the war was over and she didn’t have an excuse to see her every day, she had to get crafty. And Cordelia was already training fresh recruits anyway, now that she had been appointed as Phila’s successor, the new Captain of the Knights. The promotion was a solemn affair and although everyone agreed she was the most capable of the candidates, Cordelia didn’t seem all that confident. Fleur wondered if it was what she really wanted, or if she simply bore the responsibility out of a sense of duty. 

“You must be able to fight on your feet if you are going to fight on the back of a pegasus,” Cordelia said as she circled the other woman, her wooden lance lowered and ready to strike. “I know how strong you are, Fleur, but you have some shortcomings you must train away. First, you are eager to parry rather than dodge, which can cost you the fight if you gamble on that option every time you meet your opponent’s weapon. Second, when you are on a pegasus your accuracy suffers but you are also a bigger target. Hit your target every time, and if you miss you must pull away. Do not rely on being able to make follow-up strikes if you miss.”

“Right,” Fleur said. “Dodge more, don’t miss.” Sometimes she felt that her personality was ill-suited to being a Pegasus Knight, since she was so confrontational and aggressive. It wasn’t her nature to back off if she was at a disadvantage; she was more inclined to come back hitting harder. But clearly that was something she needed to work on. 

Cordelia nodded and lunged forward. Dodging to the side, Fleur swung her lance around and tried to strike at Cordelia’s back to knock her forward, but her opponent was fast and brought her weapon back up to block her. Instead of powering through the parry, Fleur pushed herself backward and leapt away. Guarding herself with the shaft of her lance, she circled around to Cordelia’s left, where it was harder for her to strike due to having to reach across her body. Her opponent tried to compensate by raising her lance high to stab downward, but Fleur took advantage of her higher center of gravity to roll to the side and sweep her lance under Cordelia’s feet. Cordelia stumbled in an effort to regain her stance, but tripped over the weapon and fell backwards, and Fleur was on her like a tiger. She used her elbows to pin Cordelia’s shoulders down and trapped her hips on either side with her knees. Her lance was in her hand, the wooden tip raised menacingly to Cordelia’s vulnerable throat. 

Cordelia’s crimson eyes were wide, her mouth slightly parted as Fleur smirked down at her. For a minute she was speechless, pinned beneath the other woman’s weight and utterly impressed by how well she’d incorporated her advice from moments ago. “That was...perfect,” she said. 

Fleur chuckled and let her up, rolling onto her back beside her. “Thanks,” she said through heavy breaths. “You were right, backing off from the parry gave me time to think and more mobility.” She turned her head to the side and looked at her. “You’re amazing, Cordelia.”

Color dusted over Cordelia’s freckled cheeks and she cast her gaze downward. “So I’m told, but…” 

“But?” Fleur gaped. “That was the first time I beat you out of countless matches. And I’m no stranger to fighting!” In fact, Fleur prided herself on her strength and proficiency on the battlefield. But Cordelia’s prowess was on another level, one that Fleur envied more than a little.

“I’m just glad you’re learning,” she said.

“I bet you didn’t even need to learn this stuff when you started out,” Fleur said. “A genius like you? You probably taught the senior Knights what they knew.” 

“Do not call me that!” Cordelia snapped, sitting up suddenly.

Fleur blinked and stammered. “Oh, I’m sorry...I didn’t mean…”

Cordelia’s shoulders sagged. “No...no, of course you didn’t. Forgive me. It’s just that...my superiors called me that from the moment I joined the Knights. Little Lady Genius, they called me. They teased me and taunted me. They mocked me too, my appearance, my javelin technique…It was hard sometimes.”

“Gods above! I had no idea the Pegasus Knights could be so spiteful!” Fleur said, unreasonably angry. She warned herself not to insult the memory of the fallen Knights, but the thought of anyone bullying Cordelia like that was nothing short of infuriating. “I assure you when I called you a genius, I meant it only as a compliment.” 

Cordelia breathed a polite laugh. “I know. I’m just overly sensitive, is all.” 

Fleur sat up and put her elbows on her knees so she could look Cordelia in the eyes. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said. “Your memories of the other Knights are all put into harsh perspective now that they’re gone. Don’t chastise yourself for feeling sensitive about them.”

A tear rolled out of Cordelia’s eye and down her cheek. “You are so kind to me, Fleur...sometimes I worry people will get the wrong idea.”

Fleur’s heart skipped three beats. “Wh-what idea?” 

Cordelia wiped her face. “You know...we spend so much time together, and you are always so sweet to me. People will start to think...we’re friends.” 

Fleur released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She thought she was going to say something else, and she couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed. “Would that be so bad? I thought we were friends. Have I been misleading myself? Are we not?”

A light sparked in Cordelia’s glistening eyes and she tensed. “D-do you think so? Truly?” 

Fleur couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course! Why not?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cordelia said, laughing away her tension. “I’ve just -- I suppose I’ve just become accustomed to not having any. I was the youngest recruit in the Knights. All of my comrades were veterans. There was no one I was close to, no one I could truly call my friend.”

“That’s...sad,” Fleur said. She didn’t know what to say. How could so many people exclude such a wonderful woman? At least people in the Shepherds seemed to be friendlier toward Cordelia, although Fleur didn’t often see her spending time with people just for fun now that she thought about it. 

“It’s alright. As I said, I grew accustomed to it. Besides, I did have my pegasus to talk to, even if those conversations were a little one-sided.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, chuckling at the memories of all the times she’d confided in Killer. “Oh! That reminds me, how is Caeda?” 

“She’s alright,” Cordelia said with a weak smile. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to fly anymore...but she’ll live, and that’s what matters. I’m just glad she won’t have to see war again.” 

Fleur hummed. “Poor thing. But I’m glad she’ll be sticking around with us.” 

Cordelia smiled at Fleur, an honest and hopeful look in her eyes. Her gaze lingered for a bit before she stood up and brushed off her backside. “Alright! Are you ready to get back to training?”

“We were having a moment!” Fleur groaned dramatically. “And you just want to kick my ass again?” 

A hearty laugh came from the other knight, a soulful sound that made Fleur’s chest flutter. “You _did_ ask for it!” 

\--

When Chrom came to his tactician and asked her to be his best woman at his wedding, Fleur didn’t have to ask who the bride was. During the short month since they met, Chrom and Olivia had gotten so close that they were together every single day. On days when she was looking for Chrom, Fleur had found them arm-in-arm in the royal flower garden, alone with each other during afternoon tea, and once even cuddling close by a fire with a couple of books. In the year she had known her best friend, she had seen him pining casually after a few men and women, but she’d never seen him fall in love like this. Part of her was cautious, worried that it was just smoldering infatuation that would cool with the winds of time, but she figured he wouldn’t fold her into the royal family by marrying her if he wasn’t sure about her.

And it wasn’t like Fleur had any objections to the bride. She had never met someone so selfless and sweet in all her—admittedly short—memory. Olivia was considerate and romantic, but she was also steeped in less-than-graceful Feroxi customs after the time she had spent with Khan Basilio. At first glance she was a beguiling dancer, a rosy angel gentle in voice and smooth in motion, but then she’d regale her refined company with Basilio’s favorite story about his “big brown ass,” snorting as she laughed. She had charisma leaking out her ears. It was hard not to be charmed by her. 

The ceremony was held on the castle grounds, and it was as grand and excessive as a royal wedding should be. Flower arrangements by the hundreds burst from every corner of the cavernous palace chapel: blue violets, red roses, and white lilies filling the air with the perfume of romance. The huge marble statue of Naga towering over the audience from the front of the chapel was laden with gold and more flowers. On either side of the hall, tall colorful windows let in the brilliant mid-morning sunlight, giving the entire venue a heavenly atmosphere.

Fleur wore a suit with a long indigo vest buttoned over her cream-colored dress shirt, adorned with her military honors and practically dripping in golden finery. Chrom was dressed in traditional Ylissean groom’s attire, and he looked so nice Fleur almost didn’t recognize him. Frederick really outdid himself in the task of making his lord look presentable; Chrom’s hair was combed back from his face for once, his outfit made of royal blue velvet and shimmering with silver threads and adornments. 

“Are you ready?” Fleur whispered to him once they were lined up at the front, in position and ready to begin. She had asked him this same question countless times in the midst of battle, but she’d never been less certain of the answer than now.

Chrom took a shaky breath, and Fleur could see his fingers trembling. “I hope so,” he said.

Fleur put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be standing here the whole time.”

The prince smiled at her over his shoulder. “You’ve always had my back.”

Chrom said he was going to control himself when Olivia walked into the chapel, but the moment he turned and saw her standing there draped in ivory with an elegant golden lace veil framing her braided hair, her shy gaze cast to the floor, he burst into tears. Throughout the entire ceremony he was wiping at his wet cheeks, struggling not to grin like an idiot the whole time. Lissa, who was presiding, couldn’t help but roll her eyes every now and then at her goofy, sentimental brother. Thankfully she kept the vows brief and allowed the wedded couple to kiss before they both exploded from anxiety, and the audience applauded and cheered, some of them just because they couldn’t wait to get hammered at the reception. 

Fleur must have been a drinker in her forgotten past life, because she could hold her liquor so well that it was almost annoying. Chrom drank three glasses of wine and was already well into embarrassing-dancing territory while Fleur sat at a table sipping on her fourth, barely even tipsy. She was glad the prince was having a good time at his own wedding, but she couldn’t help but feel like a downer, her subtle melancholy more than a little out of place with the mood. She didn’t want to be the person that envied her best friend’s romantic success, but it was hard not to think of her unrequited feelings for Cordelia while Chrom and Olivia gazed mushily into each other’s eyes right in front of her all day. 

She wondered where Cordelia was, and if she was feeling similarly depressed. Fleur had heard secondhand from several other Shepherds about Cordelia’s dreams of marrying Chrom, which only confirmed what Fleur had suspected when she had first met her. As misled as she thought Cordelia’s infatuation was, having her dreams smothered must hurt. Fleur had seen her sitting in the audience during the ceremony with a placid smile on her face, so she decided to look around the banquet for her, thinking that she could probably use the company. 

She found Cordelia lounging against a wall with an untouched glass of champagne in her hand, a light sheen of sweat over her chest and forehead that told Fleur she was taking a break from dancing. Even with strands of her long hair falling out of its elegant updo and her slightly smudged makeup, Fleur was awestruck by how beautiful she was, like it was the first time she had ever seen her all over again. Tall and lithe like an ancient statue, her peacock-blue dress looked like it came straight from an oil painting, cascading down past its empire waistline in delicate pleats.

Fleur cleared her throat as she sidled up to her. “How about that couple, hm?” 

Cordelia smiled halfheartedly. “May Naga bless their union.”

For a few moments they stood together in amiable silence. 

“Hey, do you feel like getting some air?” 

“I think that would be great.” 

\--

Plenty of fresh air and one empty champagne flute later, Cordelia was laughing freely at Fleur’s jokes as they strolled side-by-side throughout the open halls of the palace. The reception had stretched well into the night, and the stone walkways were illuminated by both torchlight and the cool swipe of the sparkling galaxy overhead. Fleur was leading the two of them in slow loops around the great fountain in the center of one of the palace’s many courtyards, the steady splashing sounds of the water providing the static backdrop for their gentle clicking footsteps. 

“I can’t believe it! A toad?” Cordelia said through her giggles.

“According to her it was a frog, but I fail to see how that matters,” Fleur said. “I don’t care if she’s a princess, if she ever puts a slimy creature down my shirt again I’ll stop talking to her forever.” 

“Surely you don’t really mean that!”

“I have never been more serious! Chrom would have to come to my house for policy meetings because I wouldn’t be caught dead within 100 meters of that little monster. I’m not the type that can be fooled twice by the same person!” Fleur said, pointing her finger at Cordelia for emphasis.

Cordelia tilted her head back and laughed from her heart, and a smile lingered on her face. She sighed once she regained her breath. “Fleur...I must thank you for this.”

The sudden sincerity took Fleur by surprise. “For..what?” she asked.

“I was resigned to spending the whole night in lonesome misery,” Cordelia elaborated. “But you turned it into a happy memory. You didn’t have to do that for me...so, thank you.”

Fleur ducked her head shyly and blushed. “Don’t thank me. It’s my pleasure, truly.” 

Cordelia hummed in thought. “I must seem like a silly little girl, heartbroken because I can never be with a man that barely even knows me. Sitting here in bitter dejection while he celebrates his newfound joy.”

“Cordelia…forgive me if it’s not my place to ask, but why do you have such strong feelings for Chrom when you’ve spent so little time together?” Fleur had been wondering ever since they met, and now seemed like the right time to ask.

The other woman’s face turned almost as red as her hair. “I know it sounds childish, but I’ve just always dreamt of marrying him, since I was small. I’ve never known what it feels like to be truly in love, but...I know that being with him would have made me happy.” 

So her dreams weren’t ever really about Chrom at all. They were about marrying a prince and living happily ever after, because that would be the untarnishable, perfect life. Cordelia deserved more than just what looked nice at the ending of a fairytale, she deserved a love that was real, that fit into her life the way that it was and didn’t require it to become something else. Chrom could never be that for her, even if he weren’t already married now. Fleur didn’t want to assume that she was the right one either, but…

 _You can offer her something that’s beautiful,_ Sully had said. Fleur sighed deep and low. If taking this risk had any inkling of a chance that it could give Cordelia the love that she was so willing to sacrifice for herself, then it was worth the danger of losing her friendship.

“Cordelia, I...There’s something that you need to hear,” she began, unconsciously stopping in her pace. 

Cordelia looked down with concern at Fleur, who couldn’t meet her eyes. “What is it?”

Fleur spoke slowly and deliberately, choosing her words with utmost intention. “You don’t have to waste your energy lamenting that you can’t be with Chrom. There is a love that’s waiting for you if you’d care to claim it,” she paused and forced herself to breathe and meet her eyes. “Mine.” 

Cordelia’s brows drew together and she trembled slightly. “Wh-what?” 

Fleur’s heart was beating so fast that she felt almost sick. “I...I want to give you everything, Cordelia,” she said breathlessly. “You’re always asking me why I do nice things for you, and this is why. You’re magnificent, you’re powerful, you’re a force of nature that none of us did anything to deserve. And it breaks my heart that you don’t know it. I wish I could remind you every day, in new ways that we could discover together.”

“Fleur, I don’t understand...” Cordelia whispered, taking a tiny step backward. 

She was probably saying too much, but she couldn’t stop herself now. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip for a moment to force herself to slow down. “I...I love you, Cordelia. I do. And you don’t have to return my feelings, but I need you to know that you’re worth so much more than spending your life wishing it was someone else’s.” 

The stunned silence that followed was broken by the shattering of Cordelia’s dropped glass. Before Fleur could stop her, Cordelia spun on her heel, stammered a confused apology, and ran off toward the front of the palace. Fleur wasn’t sure if she’d expected better, but in the void of Cordelia’s company she stared down at the broken shards of glass at her feet and wondered if that was what her heart looked like too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, what everyone's been waiting for: an update on the status of cordelia's pegasus
> 
> I really like incorporating canon dialogue (as I'm sure you can tell by now), especially giving context for supports! So if you recognized Fleur and Cordelia's conversation in the second scene at all, it's a mash up of lines from their B and C supports. I'll get to the A one in future chapters ;)
> 
> EDIT: i commissioned twitter user @catskid100 to draw fleur and cordelia in an alternate ending where cordelia accepts fleur’s feelings instead of running away ;v; it’s so beautiful and i just can’t stop looking at it, here it is: https://twitter.com/fleurdeiia/status/975938737896116226?s=21


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here comes a special girl!

Fleur contemplated the tactical quandary laid out before her, toying with all the different routes she could take and where her moves would land her in future turns, and decided to sacrifice her rook by moving it forward one square. 

Her opponent confidently captured the piece with her bishop, which was now one diagonal space from Fleur’s king. “Check,” declared Maribelle in a nearly musical tone. 

Fleur smirked and reached for a knight that had been laying in wait from her second turn, knocking Maribelle’s bishop off the board and eliminating her most advanced piece. “Think again,” she said. 

Maribelle’s mouth hung open for a moment and she bristled with indignance. “You tricked me! That’s hardly fair!”

“That’s tactics,” Fleur said with a shrug. “Sometimes I miss having Virion around for this game, he may be an insufferable sleazeball but at least his chess technique wasn’t so transparently straightforward.” 

Maribelle rolled her eyes and refused to be baited. “The game is not yet over, my dear. Don’t think for a moment that I’m afraid of you.”

And that’s what Fleur loved about Maribelle. “You know I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said. 

Although she teased her, Fleur had to admit that Maribelle’s chess game had become steadily more challenging in the months since they started playing together. She was still leagues from being able to stump the tactician of the Shepherds, but their matches weren’t completely one-sided anymore. In any case Fleur was grateful for the opportunity to hone her mind; ever since the war ended she’d been feeling intellectually restless and after almost a year of reading the same war history books over and over she was relieved that Maribelle had agreed to do this kind of mental training with her. 

She hadn’t been slacking off on her combat training in her downtime, either, spending a few hours every week in the barracks with her lance and out in the fields with her pegasus. She still showed up to regular practice with Cordelia and the other Pegasus Knights, but she hadn’t mustered up the courage to ask Cordelia to train with her individually ever since the night of Chrom’s wedding. Months had passed since her disastrous confession and it still felt impossible to broach the subject with her, so she had just sat back and did nothing while their friendship kept growing more tenuous. Her trampled heart ached with the knowledge that with each day she avoided Cordelia, the two of them edged closer and closer to being strangers again. To keep her shame at bay, she told herself that it didn’t hurt as much as being rejected twice would.

Maribelle was just about to execute the move she had spent the past few minutes mulling over when Chrom crashed through the door behind them, slamming it into the wall. Fleur reacted by jamming both of her knees hard into the edge of the table and hissed at the bruising sting.

“Naga’s _tits_ , Chrom!” she exclaimed, turning in her seat to glare daggers at the intruder. “It’s called knocking! I’ve seen you do it!”

“Fleur! Thank the gods I found you!” Chrom wheezed as he rushed forward and put his hands on her shoulders. 

Between her fading pain and the anxiety oozing from her friend’s tense movements, Fleur felt dizzy with confusion. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“I need your help!” Chrom said, pulling her up from her seat by the arm. “Olivia is having the baby!” 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Fleur pulled her arm back and tried to take ten steps backward in this exchange. “Why did you waste time looking for me, you dolt? I’m not a cleric!”

The poor man looked like he was about to cry. “I...I don’t know! I just thought you could help!” 

From the other side of the toppled chessboard, Maribelle stood up and delicately smoothed her blouse. “If it is not too assuming of me, my lord, I _am_ a cleric, and it would be my honor to attend this birth.” 

Chrom glanced at her with wide eyes. “Alright, yes, you can come too! Could we stop standing here, please?” he urged, dragging Fleur out of the room with Maribelle hot on her tail. 

They reached the bedroom, where Olivia was laying on her back and trying to keep a brave face. Chrom rushed to her side and clutched her hands while Maribelle strode in confidently, pushing her sleeves to her elbows and tying back her hair. It was almost amusing how panicked Chrom was, considering it was hardly the first time he’d been in an intense scenario that required quick thinking. But then Fleur was usually the one to keep her wits and navigate their army through the pressures of war. Fleur ducked her head and smiled at the subtle realization: so that was why he had sought her out first. 

The process was long and arduous - Maribelle reassured the couple that most first births are - and Olivia was just as indefatigable as she was during her continuous dance on the battlefield. Fleur let herself be directed and put to use by the cleric, retrieving water and cool towels for the queen and lending her hands wherever they were needed. She tried her best to offset Chrom’s persistent anxiety by gently stroking Olivia’s forehead and shoulders, alternating between calm soothing and persistent encouragement. 

“Don’t hold your breath, Olivia,” she reminded her during a particularly powerful contraction. “I know you’re focused, but you need to breathe.”

“It won’t stop hurting. I’m...I’m so tired,” she gasped, closing her eyes. “Is it almost over?”

“You’re still in the process of dilating,” Maribelle informed her from her place between Olivia’s legs. “I know it hurts, but it’ll be a while longer before it’s over.”

Olivia threw her head back and groaned. Chrom apologized for some ridiculous reason.

The sun had set in the sky by the time the baby’s head crowned. Olivia screamed as she pushed, a desperate, primal sound that was nothing short of frightening. A full hour later, everyone in the room exhaled their tension at the sound of an infant’s cry, and Maribelle motioned for Fleur to come close with a clean towel, where she gently placed the fragile little girl before severing the umbilical cord. 

Fleur held the baby and sobbed without even knowing why. It was like something rose up from her chest and released her tears the moment she felt the weight of new life in her arms. The newborn child, wet and red and hot, squirmed as she cried, making it difficult for Maribelle to clean the fluid away from her nose and mouth. From the bed, Olivia reached her arms out in a silent demand for her baby. Carefully, like she was handling the most precious thing in the world, Fleur gifted the bundle to the weak and exhausted mother. 

For a few minutes the crying infant was the only one who made any sound, the rest of them just watching her in genuine awe. Finally, the loud cries dwindled to a whimper, and then to quiet breathing as she slept on the breast of her mother, who quickly followed her off to sleep. 

“I don’t see a Brand,” Chrom observed in a gentle whisper, not taking his eyes off his daughter. “I wonder if she’ll be like Lissa.”

“Maybe it’s just small. We can look for it later,” Fleur said. 

Chrom tore his gaze away from his family to meet Fleur’s eyes. “Thank you, Fleur. For being here. It means the world to all three of us.”

Fleur breathed a chuckle. “It was the greatest honor I’ve ever had, truly. Have the two of you already decided on a name?”

Chrom’s teary eyes softened as he looked back at his infant daughter. “Lucina.”

\--

 

Fleur trudged out of the monthly diplomatic advisory meeting feeling like an old woman, like it had lasted twenty years instead of three hours. She had half a mind to march to Regna Ferox herself and tell Khan Flavia that if her ambassador to Ylisse didn’t stop interrupting and condescending to her during these conferences, she was willing to risk their nations’ alliance by ripping out his spine and flogging him raw with it. Fleur considered herself a relatively tolerant person; it took a lot to destabilize her composure, but people who underestimated her intelligence could cleave through her hardened patience like it was a thin mist. 

Although her agenda was clear for the rest of the day, she didn’t feel like going home when she was so wound up. She headed toward the nursery, thinking that playing with Lucina was the best way to soothe her nerves. The 3-month-old baby was exceptionally calm, and Fleur hoped against reason that it meant she knew how well-loved she was. The little princess was going to want for nothing her entire life, cared for perhaps to the point of being spoiled, with absurdly doting parents and a great number of adoring aunties and uncles. The enthusiasm with which Chrom had greeted new fatherhood warmed Fleur’s jaded heart; dejected though she was at her own interpersonal failures, it was hard not to smile at her best friend blowing raspberries on his daughter’s plump cheeks every time he saw her and bringing her honest-to-Naga _bouquets_ of flowers on a regular basis. 

Fleur was more than fond of her honorary niece, too. She loved her toothless beaming during playtime, the way she couldn’t help flailing her limbs when she laughed or cried, the wispy blue curls adorning her soft little head, the pale, elegant Brand of Naga manifested in her left eye. And although she knew how babies worked, it was inexplicably strange to her how strongly Lucina resembled both of her parents, even at such a young age. She could see Chrom’s crescent eyes on her face when she giggled, and Olivia’s dimples in her smiling cheeks. 

Fleur’s prickly mood was already starting to disperse as she got closer to the nursery, and once she was down the hall she thought she could hear the light notes of a harp drifting from the guarded door. Gently pushing into the room, she saw someone sitting across from the baby’s crib, delicately plucking at a harp’s strings in a dreamy lullaby. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim orange glow of the lantern light, Fleur saw that the musician was Cordelia, her head swaying slightly with the music and her eyes closed as if in a trance. Lucina was apparently asleep in her crib, the steady breaths coming from her swaddled form just barely audible. Somewhat enthralled herself, Fleur sat down in a carved wooden rocking chair across from Cordelia and watched as her long, slender fingers pulled the sweet melody from the instrument. 

Momentarily, Cordelia’s eyes fluttered open and glanced at her visitor, and she tripped over a few notes but refused to cut her song short. Fleur waited patiently through the end of the lullaby, feeling her muscles relax as drowsiness creeped slowly through her body and pushed her precariously close to the edge of sleep. 

Cordelia finished her song, and the serenity that perfused the room only moments before quickly soured into awkwardness. Cordelia tugged at her hair, running her fingers through it like a comb and looking anywhere but at Fleur’s face. The tension was nearly strong enough for Fleur to just get up and leave, but this was the first time she had been alone with Cordelia in a painfully long time. She hadn’t realized how her heart had ached for her company until she stumbled into it, and now leaving her was the last thing she wanted to do.

Finally, the silence was broken when they both spoke in hushed voices simultaneously:

“I didn’t --” 

“It’s good to --” 

They both breathed an embarrassed chuckle, and Cordelia gestured for Fleur to go ahead and speak first. 

“I didn’t know you could play so beautifully,” she whispered. “Stahl mentioned to me once that you knew an instrument, but…that was really lovely.”

Though it was hard to see her features in the near-darkness, it looked to Fleur like a blush rose in Cordelia’s cheeks at the praise. “That’s kind of you. Stahl must have said something to Olivia too, because I’m playing here at her request. And you know how hard it is to say no to her,” she said with a slight smile. 

“Lucina doesn’t know how fortunate she is,” Fleur said, and Cordelia agreed. “Now you say what you were going to say.”

“Oh, I...I was just…” She ducked her head bashfully, and then looked up and met Fleur’s eyes. “It’s good to see you. I, um...I’ve missed you.” 

And just like that, with that simple admission, Fleur could feel the built-up regret and longing she had been feeling depart from her, freeing her heart from its weighty burden. All the time that she’d spent longing for Cordelia suddenly didn’t seem so pathetic, because Cordelia had missed her enough to say so right to her face. She couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice as she hesitantly whispered, “You...you have?”

“I’ve been wanting to say something to you for a while, but I haven’t been brave enough,” Cordelia admitted, her hands returning to her hair. “I don’t know how to -- this isn’t something I’ve had to navigate before.”

Fleur was almost afraid to ask, but the conversation was already happening. “You mean...a woman having feelings for you?” 

Cordelia’s blush was undoubtedly apparent now. “A woman, a friend, anyone. No one’s ever...I’ve always been…” She forced herself to exhale and looked up. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. I never wanted to risk our friendship, but I--”

“It’s alright.” Fleur stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist. “I shouldn’t have put that on you. I’m sorry too.”

“No, don’t be,” Cordelia said, and Fleur looked at her with wide eyes and a stopped heart. “Wait, I mean, it’s not that I -- I’m not --” She breathed. “I’m sorry, I still don’t share your feelings. But...at the same time, I am grateful you told me.”

“What? Really?” Fleur nearly exclaimed, remembering the sleeping baby just barely in time to keep her voice down. 

“It’s true. I’m all too familiar with the torment of harboring secret feelings. I care for you, Fleur, maybe not the same way you care for me, but all the same...I would never wish that pain on you.”

Fleur pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to suppress the tears burning behind them. For over a year she had been kicking herself for burdening Cordelia with her stupid confession when she could have spared her regrets. The reservoir of time she had wasted on silent suffering suddenly overwhelmed her, engulfing her in its drowning embrace, and it was difficult to keep the dam intact. Despite her best efforts, her palms became wet with tears. “All this time…I-I thought...I thought you...” she croaked pitifully. 

Cordelia pulled Fleur’s hand away from her face and grasped it in both of hers. “I know, and I’m so sorry. It was shameful and cowardly of me to let you think you’d pushed me away for so long.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Fleur said, shaking her head. Even though she’d agonized for months and broken her own heart, Fleur forgave her in an instant as though the whole torturous struggle was trite. And it was trite, in the face of Cordelia’s compassion. There was nothing to forgive. “Does this mean we can be friends again?” 

Cordelia’s face softened into a relieved smile, but before she could say anything they were interrupted by a palace messenger unceremoniously announcing himself. The two women released each other’s hands and sat back from each other like a reflex, and baby Lucina stirred in her sleep at the noise of the intrusion. 

Squinting at the light from the hall and trying her utmost to dull the edge of her annoyance, Fleur asked, “Yes? What is it?” 

“Lady Fleur, you have been summoned to the reception hall by His Grace Lord Chrom.”

“I just saw him a moment ago. What does he want?” 

“Lord Virion of Roseanne has unexpectedly requested audience, and milady's presence was explicitly called for. He claims urgency.”

Fleur exchanged a glance with Cordelia, and then sighed and stood up to leave. She hoped for Virion’s sake that this wasn’t going to be a waste of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fleur and Cordelia had to settle their angst before all the shit starts to go down
> 
> i hope you enjoy reading sappy new dad Chrom as much as I enjoyed writing him! This chapter was a little shorter than usual but the next one should be loooooong


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A journey back to Plegia leaves Fleur with some disconcerting hints at her sinister past...

“I still think this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“The window of time for offering your opinion has long since passed, Chrom.”

“Tell me again why I agreed to do this.”

Fleur chuckled and turned toward her friend, who was anxiously pacing the charcoal-black tile of the Plegia Castle audience chamber, crossing her arms. “Because deep down, you know that I never have bad ideas.”

Chrom paused in his pacing with his fingernails between his teeth, the flame of the torches lining the walls flickering stark shadows across his face as he glared at his tactician. His eyes narrowed at her for a moment, like he was considering her point, but then he threw his arms up with a groan and pushed his hair back from his face with both hands. “But Plegia, Fleur? Come on. Plegia?”

Fleur sighed. “We’ve been over this a thousand times and I’m not going to try to persuade you all over again. You agreed that Ylisse is still too weak to fight another war without allies, and besides Regna Ferox, Plegia is the only other nation on this side of the ocean that has the resources to help us.”

“Any ships they give us will have holes in their hulls. You don’t know how long Plegia has waited to watch Ylisse sink.”

“You’re being hysterical,” Fleur chided. “We are all facing a common threat. Besides, it’s not like Gangrel is still the king. I’m sure his successor will be more cooperative. It’s like your sister said, Plegia wants peace as much as the rest of us.”

Recalling the words of Emmeryn must have struck a nerve, because Chrom’s shoulders sank and he looked away before speaking again. “The least we can do for Emm is try,” he resigned. “And it does seem too late to turn back now.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Hold.” Frederick interrupted their bickering from behind them, holding up a hand. “Someone is about to join us.”

Chrom rearranged himself to look more composed just in time for a tall, dramatically dressed woman to stride toward them, the clacking of her heels echoing through the hall. Black feathers lining her collar rustled against her silvery hair with each step, and Fleur found her generously exposed bustline somewhat distracting. But this wasn’t the first time she had met this woman, and she knew Chrom recognized her at the same time she did, because he visibly tensed as she neared them.

“Greetings, Prince Chrom. Plegia welcomes you,” she said with a snake’s smile on her face.

“Aversa!” Chrom exclaimed, and Fleur subtly elbowed him to remind him that they were there as diplomats, not battlefield enemies, and to keep his tone in check. Though she couldn’t deny that Aversa’s presence bode poorly - Gangrel may be gone, but if the advisor that had summoned the army of Risen that slaughtered the Ylissean Pegasus Knights remained, then any alliance between their two nations would be shaky at best.

“What can I say?” Aversa said with a casual shrug. “It seems that fate has designs for me yet.”

“You serve the new king, then? This...Validar?” Chrom inquired.

“I do.”

“They say he worships Grima,” muttered Frederick, whose hackles were undoubtedly raised already.

Aversa went on to confirm the rumors, speaking fondly of the Grimleal as though Grima were the god of hope rather than destruction. Fleur exchanged a suspicious glance with Chrom, biting her lips. She was no expert on the Grimleal cult, but she did know that the fell dragon Grima was perpetually entangled in conflict with Naga, the divine dragon and patron of the house of Ylisse. Although Fleur was hesitant to condemn an entire religion, it didn’t look good that the throne of Plegia was relegated to an open worshipper of the deity that called for Naga’s demise. While she was pondering her regrets, the new King himself swept into the hall.

Validar’s apparel somehow looked even more dramatic than Aversa’s, his fingernails sharpened to a dagger’s point and eye paint that cast dark shadows over his visage. He had the look of a man that was hiding his winning hand, civil but arrogant. A moment passed before Fleur’s eyes widened in shock - she had seen this man before too, and she didn’t like the implications of the recollection.

As introductions commenced, Chrom unceremoniously leaned toward Fleur and whispered in her ear like a five-year-old. “Psst! Fleur!”

“Yes, I know!” she hissed back, pushing him away. “He looks just like the assassin that came after Emmeryn…”

“And you must be Lady Fleur,” Validar said, interrupting their little conversation that he surely had overheard.

Fleur was too flustered by the blatant breach of courtesy to respond intelligently. “Ah, y-you know of me?” she asked politely, smoothing her robes.

“Of course! Everyone knows of…”

Chrom leaned over again and whispered, “But we definitely killed that guy! He should be dead, right?”

The end of Validar’s sentence was drowned out by Chrom’s comment. “I know, but...look at him! How many men are there out there who are missing both ears and both eyebrows?” Fleur said.

The king cleared his throat. “Ahem. So much whispering, and the negotiations haven’t even started.”

Standing up straight and blushing just the slightest bit, Chrom bowed his head. “...My apologies, Your Highness. We meant no disrespect.”

Speak for yourself, Fleur thought, as she wasn’t done whispering. “What should we do?”

“Nothing, I guess. Just be ready,” Chrom mumbled out the corner of his mouth.

This was unsatisfactory to Fleur, but there wasn’t much she could do about it but cross her arms and glare at Validar while the transactions proceeded. Validar offered supplies in excess, which twenty minutes ago Fleur would’ve been thrilled about, but now simply added to the pile of mistrust building the longer this meeting went on. She hated to concede defeat in any scenario, but Chrom may have been right about this whole alliance-with-Plegia thing. Something was profoundly rotten about all this.

Fleur issued a prayer of thanks to Naga when Chrom tried to excuse his party from the premises, but Aversa stopped him, claiming she had to introduce them to Plegia’s hierophant before they left.

A figure emerged, as though solidifying from the darkness behind them. Fleur gasped when she saw their attire: an ankle-length hooded robe that was identical to the one she had been wearing when Chrom found her without memory in the mud on the side of the road. Their face was shrouded by the cowl, but Fleur was struck dumb by the resemblance. Could this be who she was in her past life? If that was the uniform worn by the Grimleal priests, then she could have been a high priestess of Grima. The possibility was harrowing, and it took all of her resolve not to turn heel and leave right then and there.

The hierophant stood and watched them from the shadows obscuring their face, silent for an uncomfortably long time.

Fleur had to say something. “So...you lead the people in worship? We were just discussing religion earlier...”

More silence.

Fleur squinted at them, trying to get a good look under the hood. “I’m sorry, did I say something to offend you?”

From the faceless shadow, the hierophant spoke in a raspy voice. “The heart still sleeps, but the blood flows through it. And the blood is strong…”

“Excuse me? Are you talking to me?” For some reason, Fleur felt threatened. Every cell in her body was itching to leave now.

Thankfully Frederick spoke up and broke the intense silence between them. “Good hierophant, I would ask you to lower your cowl. In Ylisse, it is a courtesy expected of one in the presence of royalty.”

“...You are a long way from Ylisse, sir, but very well…”

The hood fell, and Fleur’s blood turned to ice. Every word spoken after that was scrambled and overwhelming, and she couldn’t hear Chrom’s enraged demands for an explanation nor Frederick’s mortified expressions of shock. All she could focus on was the face in front of her, a grotesque mirror of her own. It wasn’t quite identical - it looked older, more gaunt, and with different scars. The stranger’s loose, tangled hair was dark, the color of Fleur’s unbleached roots, and she lacked the piercings that Fleur had had since before she woke up with no memories. But there was no mistake in those dark eyes, those sneering lips. At the very least, it was a close family resemblance. But before it felt like any time had passed, the stranger pulled her hood back up over her face and Fleur was being led away by the arm, pulled along by a deeply agitated Chrom.

\--

The next thing Fleur saw was the roof of the cleric’s tent. She was lying on her back on a hard cot, and her head felt like it was filled with burning hot coals.

“Ugh, gods…my head…” she croaked. She tried to sit up, but a slender hand gently pushed her shoulder back down.

“Stay there for now, Fleur,” said Cordelia, her tense face leaning into the edge of her vision. “Do you know where you are?”

Fleur squinted at her like she just asked her if she had ever eaten platypus steak. “What? Yes, we’re at Carrion Isle. What’s going on?”

Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief and Fleur realized with guilt that she might have been anxious that she had lost her memories again. Cordelia reached over and retrieved a damp towel from beside her, and Fleur felt its cool weight on her aching forehead.

“I was so scared when you returned from Plegia Castle,” Cordelia began, her eyes cast downward and her long lashes brushing her cheeks. “The three of you rode in like bats out of hell, and you were hanging limp over the neck of Sir Frederick’s horse. Lord Chrom seemed panicked. For a moment I...I feared the worst.”

“I...fainted?” That didn’t sound like Fleur; she took pride in her iron will. If Sully found out this had happened she would never let her live it down.

Cordelia nodded. “You have been unconscious for nearly two hours. Far too long for most fainting spells. Did something happen? Were you hurt?”

Dull recollections shuffled forward in Fleur’s pounding head. They were increasingly unbelievable; Aversa was there, proclaiming the resurgence of Grima’s cult...King Validar may be a defeated assassin returned to life...and then a face, sickeningly unnatural, appeared in her mind’s eye. Fleur turned to face Cordelia. “What did Chrom tell you?”

Cordelia looked down. “I didn’t ask him. All I’ve gathered is that the audience went poorly.”

“No, it...it actually went quite well,” Fleur said. “They fully funded our campaign. We have ships to cross the sea. There was hardly any negotiation.”

Tilting her head, Cordelia asked, “But surely something must have gone wrong?”

Fleur brought her right hand above her face and stared at the sinister mark there, brows drawn and lips pursed. It had never bothered her before - although it had provoked some curiosity, she had never been disturbed by its presence. Going through life with no memories, Fleur had learned to accept the mysteries of her past. Her present identity was, by nature, wholly independent of who she used to be, so she saw no point in investigating any evidence of her forgotten life. If it was important it would make itself apparent sooner or later, she figured. But now that a hint to her past had come up in such a troubling manner, she wondered whether that was the best policy anymore. It was becoming clear that she hadn’t just been a faceless nobody, a peasant farmgirl who had gotten mugged in the Ylissean countryside, and if she had ever had any sort of significant role in the Grimleal priesthood...then she couldn’t just ignore it.

She rolled her head on the pillow to look at the woman at her bedside. “Cordelia...can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Cordelia said, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped.

“If you lost all of your memories tomorrow...” Fleur paused and locked her gaze to Cordelia’s. “Would you want them back?”

Cordelia blinked like she had been anticipating a different question, then put a hand to her chin. “I...yes, I’m sure I would. It wouldn’t be fair to the people in my life if I simply forgot about them all suddenly.”

But Fleur had no one from her past who cared enough to be hurt by her. “Even if you wouldn’t have to live with painful memories? What if you could forget about the day you lost your sisters?”

Cordelia looked as though she’d been struck, eyes wide and cheeks slightly flushed. “I would want to have my memories of them, to honor their sacrifice.”

A fair answer, but she was skirting around the core of the issue. “Now pretend you’re me, and you have no idea what your life was like before you forgot it all. You could be a merchant’s daughter, or a courtesan, or a soldier. You could be a noblewoman. Or you could be a monster, a criminal who got what was coming to them. Would you still want your memories back, even if it meant learning that you once committed what is unspeakable to you know?”

Cordelia eyed her. “Fleur, what are you getting at? Did you learn something at Plegia Castle?”

Rubbing at the six-eyed mark with her thumb, Fleur said quietly, “I...I think I met the woman I would have become if Chrom hadn’t found me that day. And I didn’t like what I saw.”

A dozen questions passed through Cordelia’s eyes, but despite her confusion she placed her hand on top of Fleur’s, halting the anxious rubbing motion. “You are speaking in riddles, Fleur. Listen to me, no matter what happened before you came to us, nothing will change how we see you. How I see you.”

“You can’t know that,” Fleur protested. “Not until we find out what I’ve done.”

Cordelia shook her head. “I have already judged you. I won’t turn my back on you. I can’t, not after everything you’ve done for me. If you want to rediscover your memories then I will do all that I can to help you. But you must know that my affection and respect for you don’t hinge on whatever buried details from your past that might resurface.”

Despite her tension or perhaps because of it, Fleur laughed, a light breeze of a chuckle that blew past her lips. Although it had been a trial to earn it, at times being the object of Cordelia’s platonic devotion felt like staring into the sun. She didn’t doubt the innocent intent behind her declarations, but she allowed herself in her fragile state to entertain the fantasy of reciprocation. She felt like she could reach out and grasp Cordelia’s words like feathers to cushion her broken heart. Perhaps it was wrong of her to read intimacy into friendly sentiments, but what Cordelia didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

There was nothing that Fleur could say, so she simply held tighter onto the hand that Cordelia offered her.

\--

With all the un-inventoried new resources the Shepherds had acquired that day, it was difficult for Fleur not to stay up and organize their assets. The knowledge that she had the pieces to complete an extant puzzle was like an itch demanding to be scratched, but she had promised Lissa she would go to sleep early. And frankly, the persistent jackhammer of pain bombarding her head would have kept her away from her ledgers regardless. Her blazing headache had not weakened a single degree since she regained consciousness, and the intense pounding was difficult to ignore.

Fleur groaned and rolled onto her side, shifting her legs over the cool portions of her bedroll, and tried again to fool her mind into sleeping. But between the steady scream of the nocturnal insects outside and the deafening rumble of Sully’s snoring beside her in the tent they shared, the longer she laid there the more aggravated her headache became. Finally, she sat up and grumbled as she pulled on her boots, smacking aside the tent flap and stomping out into the cool, misty night. 

Once she was outside, the chirping of the crickets seemed softer and more melodic to her ears. Short grass gently brushed against her boots, leaving streaks of sparkling dew on the leather, and as she walked through the camp, Fleur thought about how soothing and relaxing this environment should be. But when she looked at the innumerable stars set in the deep velvet night, trying to find solace, she could only see the face of that Plegian hierophant. Her own face.

She came upon a small opening some distance from the camp, and stared blindly into the black night. She was about to turn back in defeat to lay awake on her bedroll until daybreak when all of a sudden her headache accelerated into skull-splitting agony. Fleur cried out in distress and stumbled, clutching her head as Validar's voice began to hiss into her mind. Though Fleur’s eyes were squeezed shut, she could see him all the same.

“Why do you close your heart to him, Fleur?” the insidious voice echoed. “Have you truly forgotten?”

It was a herculean trial to string an organized thought together through the unrelenting pain, but Fleur managed to sputter, “Augh, my head! Get out of my mind, you snake!”

“Such arrogance! Dare you take such a tone with your own father?”

That last word startled her long enough to sustain her attention. “My...my _what?_ ”

“You are of my flesh, but of sacred blood,” Validar’s disembodied voice continued, each syllable pounding against Fleur’s brain like a hammer. “You are to serve a glorious purpose! Search deep in your heart. You already know it is your destiny…”

Fleur desperately lashed her arms out. She knew it was futile but she hated the complete helplessness she was trapped in. “No! Get out!” she shouted.

“Why do you resist us, Fleur? Your rightful place is at my side. Not wasting your time with these doomed servants of Naga! Give yourself to Grima! Let me join your strength to the fell dragon!”

Fleur let loose a ferocious scream, the sound of a cornered animal at the end of its rope. Validar mumbled something, but she couldn’t hear it. It was only when the sorcerer king's image faded from her vision and she felt the death grip on her mind subside that she registered that Chrom was suddenly standing next to her. She felt nauseous and lightheaded and her body would have given out if not for Chrom’s strong grip on her upper arm.

Chrom moved his hand to her shoulder and held her tightly, like he was worried she was going to faint again. “Fleur, what’s going on? I came as fast as I could, but...no one’s here. Are you alright?”

Fleur heaved a few gasping breaths. She groaned with the effort of refocusing her blurry vision before answering. “Ah...nngh...I’m...Yes. I’m fine. Let go of me.”

Chrom scoffed and maintained his grip on his friend. “‘ _Fine?'_ That’s not the word I would have chosen! I heard you screaming and came to see what happened, and when I got here you were alone, grabbing your head and writhing as if being tormented by phantoms.”

“It does sound kind of bad when you put it like that,” Fleur remarked. She glanced down and noticed Falchion reflecting the moonlight in Chrom’s other hand, and felt guilty for causing such a fuss. She looked up and met his eyes. “I’m okay, Chrom. I just couldn’t sleep. I’m going back to bed.”

She tried to pull away to head back to her tent, but still, Chrom restrained her. He lowered his brows and glared at her. “Fleur. What. Happened?”

Fleur sighed in resignation and looked down at the ground. She always had a hard time lying to Chrom, ever since she’d met the man. There was something so genuinely earnest about him that trying to fool him felt downright sinful. “King Validar...came to me. In my mind. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what I saw. He said some cryptic stuff that I’m not sure I was meant to understand, and then he, uh...he said I was his daughter.”

Chrom physically recoiled. “What?! Is that true?”

“How do you think I would know?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“But, repulsive as the notion is to me...I can’t say that it’s _not_ true. I have to admit, it would explain a lot,” Fleur observed, thinking of her violent and vivid nightmares. Every now and then, she would have visions of herself murdering Chrom and some of the other Shepherds, but she didn’t give much thought to it. It was just the psychological toll of being charged with hanging everyone’s lives in balance every day, she told herself. But now she was realizing that it might be another ominous hint to her sinister past.

Chrom chewed his cheek. “Do you think your lookalike is his child, too? Could you be twins?”

Fleur rubbed the heel of her hand into her eyes. “I...I’m sorry Chrom. I don’t remember. I don’t know if I want to anymore.” Her voice shook with the threat of tears and she hid her face in her her hands.

Chrom stood there dumbstruck for a moment. It was the first time he’d ever seen Fleur this close to crying, even though she’d seen him break down numerous times since they met. “Look, Fleur...don’t feel like you belong to him. You don’t belong to anyone. You are yourself, before you are any man’s daughter. Okay?”

Fleur sniffed and tried to pull herself together. She could tell she was making her friend uncomfortable. “...Thanks, Chrom.”

For the second time that day, a tense situation was relieved by Frederick’s fortuitous interjection. The knight galloped into the clearing where they stood, lance in hand. “Milord! Fleur! We are under attack! Risen have encircled the camp!”

Chrom tensed and finally released Fleur’s shoulder. “What? But we posted sentries! How did this happen?”

“They made a stealthy approach. I...I’ve never seen Risen act like this before. Either they are learning, or someone is...commanding them,” Frederick said, his face pinched with dismay at the latter thought.

“Validar!” Chrom growled, clenching his fist. “This is his doing - I’m sure of it. Equip anyone who can bear arms, and tell them we fight for our lives!”

\--

The ensuing battle was more of a struggle than most, though not because of the enemy’s power. Risen were simple opponents to defeat once the Shepherds were organized in a strategic formation. But that was the problem, their strategist was barely functioning. Fleur tried to push through her persisting headache and the profound mental disturbance she had just suffered in order to direct the battlefield, but she felt somehow miswired. The darkness and limited mobility of the battlefield didn’t help, plus a strange Plegian boy had appeared at their front lines to offer his combat skills, making the path to victory even more complicated to parse.

Fleur’s tenuous plan was thrown off course when Risen reinforcements emerged from forts at the south end of the battlefield and she found herself having to fend off axe fighters from all angles. She had no allies in range to hear any cries for assistance, and her attacks were uncoordinated because of her foggy state of mind. She missed attack after attack and couldn’t help thinking that Cordelia would be disappointed in her when a Risen wedged through her blind spot and chopped its axe hard into her knee. Crying out, Fleur’s weapon clattered to the ground as her hands flew instinctively to her slashed leg. Killer grounded himself to try to push back the attackers, but the Risen weren’t afraid of his flailing hooves and pushed undeterred toward their wounded and disarmed target. 

Fleur was about to try a risky ploy to recover her lance when a blur of red sped past her and a huge white pegasus scattered the monsters surrounding her. Cordelia shouted a battle cry and easily dispatched the enemy, her silver lance flashing across the hordes of monsters, sending them flying with each powerful sweep of her weapon. Once the threat was eliminated, she steered her mount to face a stunned Fleur.

“Fleur! Don’t frighten me like that!” she cried. “Are you unharmed?”

“N-not quite.” Fleur winced at the sting radiating through her lower leg, feeling her hot blood flowing alarmingly fast down her leg. The blood loss combined with her persistent disorientation made her feel dangerously woozy.

Cordelia dismounted and rushed over to look at the injury. Her brow furrowed and she clicked her tongue. “This could be serious. You have to get off the battlefield.”

Fleur scoffed. “Are you kidding? The tactician can’t retreat!”

Cordelia stared up into her eyes, sterner than ever. “Well, this tactician must.”

“No, Cordelia, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll take care of myself. You get back to the orders I gave you.”

“Let me protect you,” the other knight demanded, her voice raised and her burning eyes set with unbreakable resolution. “I can’t lose you, Fleur. I can’t! Not when I can do something about it.”

A phantom of the woman that Fleur had met two summers ago flickered like a flame over Cordelia’s distraught expression, and a knot formed in Fleur’s chest. She remembered the sorrow she felt the day she sat by Cordelia in the healer’s station in Ferox and listened to her blame herself for surviving when her comrades and liege had fallen. How wrong it was that the Pegasus Knight thought the value of her own life was worthless in comparison to those that had been sacrificed to preserve it. She saw the same desperation in Cordelia’s eyes now, and felt her stubbornness subside, because she wouldn’t be able to stand it if the woman she loved so much fell back into that regret and self-loathing because of Fleur.

The tactician sighed and relaxed her grip on Killer’s reins. “Alright. I’m in your hands.”

Cordelia nodded and swung herself back onto her mount’s back with effortless grace. “Let’s get you to safe—”

“Chrom!” Fleur shouted, cutting her off. “ _No!_ ” Over Cordelia’s shoulder she saw the Exalt standing on the bridge above the battlefield, ignorant of the assassin ready to strike behind his back. She spurred Killer and flew at full speed toward him, but it didn’t matter. At the last moment Marth materialized from nowhere and parried the lethal blow. 

Stopping suddenly in the midst of her desperate flight, Fleur saw Chrom speak briefly with Marth before leading her away to be alone. She looked over her shoulder and exchanged questioning glances with Cordelia, who had chased after her. Together, the two made it up to to the bridge where the Shepherds had gathered, and Cordelia helped Fleur dismount from her pegasus. The tactician had all of a heartbeat to regather her senses before Lissa and Maribelle were upon her, fussing over her profusely bleeding wound. 

The healers immediately combined their skills to mend her injury while Gaius sauntered up to where Fleur was leaning heavily on Cordelia. 

“Mind talking to Liv, Bubbles?” he said casually, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the Queen. “Poor gal is beside herself. Thinks her husband ran off with a mysterious woman.”

Fleur sighed and tried not to roll her eyes. “Surely she must know that’s not what happened.”

Gaius held his hands up. “You know and I know that Blue would never do that, but she can be...paranoid like that sometimes. Best to play it safe and put her at ease.”

“I’m going to go get Chrom. Tell her to come with me.” Fleur attempted to extract herself, but Cordelia protested and tightened her supporting arm around her waist. The healers were also reluctant to let her go, but Fleur was insistent and it was hard to deny her authority. 

\--

Fleur tried to reassure Olivia as they walked together, but the latter was swarmed by doubt. The depth of her insecurity was pitiable, and Fleur made a mental promise to yell at Chrom for not appreciating his wife more. If Fleur was blessed enough to have that kind of love in her life she wouldn’t let her spouse think for a moment that she wasn’t good enough. 

When Chrom and the mystery woman came into view, they were tearfully embracing by the riverside. Olivia was overcome, interpreting the sight as confirmation of her fears, and turned away to cry into her hands. 

“Uhh, Chrom?” Fleur said awkwardly as she approached them, rubbing the back of her neck. The two released each other and Marth gripped her upper arm, avoiding eye contact.

“What is it, Fleur?” Chrom asked, giving no indication of shame. 

“Look, I know that there’s a good explanation for this. But to your wife it looks like you’re in the arms of a strange woman, who is…crying. Explain this to her so I don’t have to.”

Chrom looked at Olivia, her shoulders trembling with muffled sobs, and turned to Marth. “Lucina, we have to tell her.”

The girl wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled. “Yes, I think we should.”

Olivia peeked over her shoulder, eyes wide with questions. “What did you just call her?”

Together, Chrom and Marth explained how this stranger could be who she said she was and how she came to be here. It took some delicate persuasion, but eventually Olivia wept all over again and held Lucina close in a touching show of motherly affection. Lucina herself was fighting a losing battle against her own tears as she clutched at her parents, and when she released them she looked at Fleur with a twinge of confusion in her brows. 

Fleur smiled at her. “It seemed hard to believe, but...you really do look just like your father and mother,” she said. “Welcome back, little Lucy. It’s good to see you.”

Lucina blushed and tilted her head. “F-forgive me, but, um...who are you?”

It was hard not to be offended. Fleur spent almost as much time around the baby as her own parents did, yet as an adult she didn’t recognize her? Did Chrom cut her off in the future? “You...don’t remember me?” 

“I can’t explain where you came from,” Lucina said, her eyebrows drawn. “The future I came to warn my father of...whoever you are, you are not a part of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write out the entirety of chapter 13 of FE:A (which is freakishly long) and also add some gay stuff so this chapter is twice as long as the last one. enjoy


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiny has a strange way, doesn't it?

By the time Fleur got to the bathing tent in the late afternoon, the water was an unenticing lukewarm temperature and there was no one else there. She sighed and began to step out of her clothes, loosing her long hair and methodically unlacing her leather greaves and gauntlets. As she disrobed, all the markings and scars that made her body her own came into view. Only about half of them were traceable to a memory, like the bruise on her arm she’d gotten from sparring with Sully the other day, the shiny web of a burn scar on her hip from the time she was blindsided by an enemy mage, and the scar below her knee from the last battle. But then there were others, like the red, branching electricity scars along her fingertips and the sinister tattoo on her right hand that she could not explain away. 

She filled the basin with water and knelt down in it, using a rag to scrub at the dirt and grime that coated her. She gazed along the spans of her skin, at the bodily home she inhabited, and the thought that it hadn’t always been hers crept like a spider into her mind. She had only known this body for a short time; it had once belonged to a stranger. It belonged to her still. Perhaps it was rightfully hers. The idea that Fleur was borrowing this body, and that one day it would return to its real owner, pierced her like a shuddering wind. 

Fleur felt like she was nothing but a visitor, that she was living a leased existence. 

_Chrom and Olivia had stepped away, unconsciously, from Lucina, their hands hanging awkwardly at their sides like unwieldy weights. Fleur felt her face heating up in confusion and hurt, but as she looked into Lucina’s eyes she could see no malice there. It wasn’t an insult. It was a question._

_While Fleur floundered in search of an answer for her, Chrom stepped forward. “Fleur is my tactician and my most trusted friend. She has been at my side since before you were born. How can it be that any child of mine wouldn’t know her face?”_

_Lucina fidgeted, dodging eye contact as though Chrom had just scorned her. “I’m afraid I’m at a loss, Father. In my memory, Lord Virion was the tactician of your army.”_

_Chrom scoffed. “Virion cannot hold a candle to Fleur’s wit. He would have led us to ruin.”_

_Lucina stared at her boots and said nothing. The silence felt cold, rolling off her shoulders like frost._

_“You said you came to warn us of the future…” Fleur began, sensing her foreboding airs. “Why? What’s going to happen?”_

_Lucina raised her eyes to meet Fleur’s, and the Brand within them shone like the sing of steel. “Our people will face the resurrection of the fell dragon, Grima. His roar is a death knell for mankind, a scream that silences all hope...There will be only death, everywhere.”_

_“Chrom? Our whole company? All of us, dead?” Fleur asked, eyes wide. She had seen her Shepherds through unspeakable trials. It was difficult to imagine a threat that could annihilate them all._

_Lucina nodded gravely. “Though perhaps not you. If, in my time, you were not a part of my father’s army...you may have lived.”_

Fleur closed her eyes and drew her knees to her chest. As distressing as facing her own mortality would have been, the prospect of living on while everyone she cared for perished violently was even more unsettling. Where was she in the future when her friends needed her? She thought of the day she risked her life to rush to Cordelia’s side on the battlefield, her mind solely occupied by the desperate need to keep her safe. Under what circumstances would she be able to carry on while the woman she loved struggled for her life? What version of herself would have let Chrom lose a fight? 

Lucina could be wrong about Fleur’s place in the future. Just because the princess didn’t remember Fleur as part of the Shepherds didn’t mean for certain that she had never been one. But if Lucina was right, it meant that the Fleur of her time was a stranger, someone that Fleur wouldn’t even recognize in a mirror. 

The image of the hierophant’s cruel grin flashed in her mind, echoed by Validar’s claim of her as his heir. She squeezed her eyes shut even harder and curled in on herself as though to protect herself from the memories. 

She was disturbed by the sound of a man’s voice entering behind her. “There you are, Fleur. I was hoping I could consult with you about tomorrow’s march…”

She whipped her head around to see Chrom standing there with his eyes on some parchment in his hand. “What the -- Chrom! Get out! Go wait outside!” 

He raised his gaze to look at his tactician where she was sitting awkwardly in the bath basin. “Um...Fleur...why exactly are you naked?!” he demanded, color quickly rising in his face.

Fleur felt heat rushing up her own cheeks. “Maybe instead of standing there like an ass, you could go wait outside like I told you?!” she shouted.

Chrom shielded his eyes with both hands like a child. “Oh gods! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to --”

Covering her chest with one arm, Fleur picked up a soap dish and hurled it at the intruder, clipping his ear. “OOOOOOOOUT!” she shrieked.

“R-right! Absolutely! Straightaway!” Chrom stammered as he tripped over himself in his blind rush to leave, running into a pole on his way out. 

Once Fleur was alone and had gotten over her flustered shock, she actually laughed out loud as she dried herself off. As soon as the first few giggles erupted from her, she couldn’t stop. Before long she had to pause what she was doing so she could hold her head in her hands and laugh through her anxiety, like she was burning off noxious fumes. She was definitely about to give Chrom a hard time for his mistake, but his goofs at the moment Fleur needed a smile was part of why she cherished him.

When she was properly dressed, she pushed out of the bathing tent and saw Chrom standing with his arms crossed and his eyes to the ground. “Alright you, what kind of idiot blunders into the women’s bathing tent?” she teased. 

Chrom brought his hands together in front of his face like he was praying. “I’m sorry! Very, very sorry! I swear I had no intention of peeping!”

Fleur tried and failed not to snort at his flustered contrition. “If you think I’m ever going to let this go, you’ve got another thing coming. Now what was so damned important that it couldn’t wait until I wasn’t naked?” 

Finally, Chrom met her eyes and stammered a few words about terrain dilemmas, imploring her tactical advice. Fleur took a quick glance at the maps he was holding and drew up a solution, which Chrom readily accepted, folding up the parchment in his hands. Afterwards, Chrom looked sideways at his friend with an unreadable look in his eye, and Fleur tilted her head.

“Will that be all?” she asked.

The prince held her gaze for a few more moments. “Fleur, are you really alright?”

“What?” Fleur said with a dismissive chuckle. “Yeah, I’m fine. Do I seem not fine?”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ve been concerned about you ever since the meeting at Plegia Castle, and I’m not the only one. Cordelia has been asking me to lighten your workload, and she rarely ever talks to me directly. In fact, whenever she does approach me, it’s usually about you.” 

Fleur put a hand to her reddening cheek. News like that shouldn’t make her feel good, but she couldn’t help the satisfaction of knowing she was on Cordelia’s mind. “Tell her not to worry. I’ve been going through some weirdness that I can’t explain, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Chrom blew a weary sigh past his lips. “You and me both.”

“Right, how _does_ it feel to be called ‘Father’ by a girl your own age?” Fleur said, cracking a grin. 

“It’s strange, but not altogether bad,” Chrom responded, a faraway look in his eye. “In a way, it makes me feel at peace to know that my daughter will grow up strong. Even if I...couldn’t be there to raise her.”

“We’re gonna change that,” Fleur said seriously. “You’re not dying on my watch, not when that baby needs her dad.” 

“Thanks, friend,” Chrom said, and then shifted his stance so he could glare right into Fleur’s eyes. “Alright, I opened up to you. Now you owe me some emotional vulnerability.”

“That’s not how friendship works.”

Chrom cocked an eyebrow. “I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure you have to do what I say.”

Fleur threw up her hands in outrage. “No fair, abusing your power! Being friends with royalty sucks!” 

“Share your feelings, or face the consequences!” 

“Argh! Fine!” Fleur cried, stomping off and then rounding back to glare at him. “You really want to know how I’m feeling? I’m feeling like I’m losing my grip on reality after being confronted with evidence that I’m not supposed to be here! I’m feeling scared, because I’m suddenly having an identity crisis of an order that no one else on the planet can comprehend. I’m feeling hurt, because your daughter doesn’t know me and it’s hard not to dwell on those implications. And I’m feeling stupidly jealous, because everyone I know has love in their lives and I’m the only one who got rejected!” 

Chrom stood there gaping for a few moments and then blinked. “Wait, did I know about that last one?” 

Deflated by her outburst, Fleur heaved a sigh and sat down with her back against a tree. “I confessed to Cordelia on your wedding night and...well, she did not care for it.” 

“My wedding night? That was ages ago! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Fleur shrugged. “You were busy with your new family.”

Chrom sat down cautiously beside her. “I wish you wouldn’t keep things like this from me. Now I’m more concerned about you than before.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t tell you! You’re a king, and a general, and a husband, and a father. What kind of tactician would I be if I wasted your time and energy on worrying about my interpersonal drama?” 

“I would worry about it regardless, Fleur,” Chrom said. “You’re not just my tactician, you’re my friend, and I can hardly be at ease if you’re tormenting yourself because you think you can’t talk to me about your problems. From now on, if something is bothering you, I want to know about it.”

Fleur was quiet for a moment, chewing her lip. “Is that an order?” 

Chrom passed his hand over his eyes and shook his head. “No, it isn’t. I’m asking you as your friend.”

“Well, I can’t promise anything, but…” she sighed. “I’ll try.” 

“Good,” Chrom said, roughly patting her shoulders. “And...you know, I’m not so sure your affections for Cordelia are as one-sided as you think.”

Fleur scoffed. “Must you mock me?” 

Putting his hands up as he stood, Chrom said, “For someone who supposedly has eyes for me, she sure does spend a lot of time talking about you, that’s all.” 

Fleur narrowed her eyes at him as he walked away, internally cursing him for shining that sliver of hope onto her. He had no idea how much work Fleur had done to drain the love out of her heart, only to have it well up as high as ever at the merest suggestion that it wasn’t doomed. Fleur got up and brushed herself off, thinking that at times, hope felt nearly more crushing than despair. 

\--

When Lucina told everyone how her father had died in the midst of their voyage across the sea, what struck Fleur most was the evenness in her voice as she spoke of the betrayal and murder of her loved ones. There was no trembling in her tone, no threat of tears lurking behind her eyes as she recalled her father’s attempted assassination and consequent handicap. The only time that her steady gaze faltered was when she questioned whether she would be able to change the course of her doomed future, since Exalt Emmeryn had perished despite her efforts. And although her sad story didn’t leave Fleur unmoved, she was mainly disturbed by how the harshness of Lucina’s life had impacted the way she carried herself. 

She recalled the little baby back in the castle, her predisposition to laughter and warmth, how secure she seemed in the love that bathed her like golden sunlight on a summer afternoon. When Fleur compared that child’s carefree smile to the hardness of the adult Lucina’s brow, she felt her heart breaking. Lucina was not her daughter, but Fleur knew intuitively the moment she was born that she would sooner die than let tragedy befall the princess. And now, seeing the woman’s unflinching expression, as though her father’s vicious murder was something she’d been forced to make peace with long ago in order to carry on, Fleur couldn’t help but feel like she had failed her. 

During a lull in the ship’s activity as it steadily traversed the sea, Fleur emerged onto the deck in search of Lucina. Even though Fleur knew that she meant effectively nothing to the future princess, at her heart she was still the little girl that she was so fond of. She found that she couldn’t resist the urge to check on her and make sure she was holding up alright. 

Fleur scanned the crew and soldiers mingling above deck, some of them lounging about and others scurrying to and fro to attend to the multitude of tasks at hand. It didn’t take long to catch sight of Lucina’s recognizable blue hair, her back turned to Fleur as she leaned her arms on the edge of the ship, facing the sea. Fleur sighed through her nose and started to approach her, but when Lucina turned her head and straightened up to face someone else, Fleur instinctively ducked behind the mainmast. 

“Greetings, Cordelia,” Lucina said, bowing her head to the newcomer. Fleur bit her lip, knowing that she shouldn’t eavesdrop...but it was impossible not to wonder what Cordelia could have to say to Lucina. She issued a prayer of apology to Naga and tuned her ear to the conversation. 

She heard Cordelia’s charming little laugh that she did whenever she was nervous. “Ah, I was going to introduce myself, but...I suppose you must already know me.”

“Yes, you were one of the legendary Pegasus Knights that fought for my father’s army,” Lucina confirmed. “Your skill with a lance was world-renowned. It was said that your enemies lived in fear of your shadow from above.”

Fleur could just imagine the blush that was probably on Cordelia’s face. “That sounds like a bit much…” The anxious giggle again. “From how you speak, though, I must wonder...was I...did I already…?”

A pause. “I’m sorry. The Cordelia of my time fell in battle at the Dragon’s Table in the same fight that took my father.” 

A pensive silence stretched between them for a moment. At length Lucina ventured, “Is that all that you wanted to ask me?”

Cordelia hesitated. “I, well...you are Lord Chrom’s daughter from the future, right?”

“Yes.”

“Is there any possibility that…do you know if the rest of us had any children? The Shepherds, I mean.” 

Fleur’s heart rushed at the notion, although it should have occurred to her by now. Lucina’s existence was relatively easy to reconcile because her infant counterpart had already been born. But how strange to consider that there may be other descendants in Lucina’s time, children that would recognize Fleur’s comrades as their parents but who would not be claimed in turn. Fleur’s breath stopped short when she wondered what she would do if someone came from the future and professed to be _her_ offspring. 

“Are you asking me if I know of your family?” Lucina asked.

“I’m sorry if it’s inappropriate, I just -- it’s something I’ve always been curious about, and I would be remiss if I didn’t at least ask,” Cordelia said, her words coming out a little too fast.

“You have a daughter named Severa,” Lucina said in a tone that came out more hushed, more tender, than before. “She...she works close by my side, actually.” 

“I’ve always loved that name. But I suppose that I would,” Cordelia chuckled. “Do you perhaps know who her father is?” 

Lucina paused before answering. “Severa herself asked me to keep quiet about that to you. I’m sorry, but I must not tell you.”

At this point Fleur turned away and stopped listening, clutching her arms as she made her way back to her quarters. It didn’t matter that Lucina wouldn’t identify Severa’s other parent; if Fleur wasn’t a part of her future then it couldn’t be her. The thought of Cordelia having a family with somebody else made her feel so sick that she was almost ashamed of it. Fleur grasped and pulled at the roots of her hair, fighting back her frustrated tears. If there was ever a sign from the gods that her love was doomed to be crushed, this was it. If she didn’t give up on Cordelia now, then she would be fighting against the full force of destiny. 

\--

Nothing stoked the flames of Fleur’s unorthodox tactical mind more than being backed into a corner. While the knowledge that a much more heavily equipped Valmese navy was hot on their tails would drive a less clever person into a panic, to Fleur it was the impetus she needed to open the gates and release the craziest parts of her strategic creativity. 

She wasn’t even that confident with the first idea that came out of her mouth, but Flavia and Basilio required little convincing in order to set flame to half of their fleet and send it crashing like a hellish bulldozer into the enemy’s front lines. Fleur had to mentally backpedal and develop some of the finer details of the plan if this was really the strategy they were going with. After a moment she glanced up at her comrades, who looked to her like they were hoping for a miracle to fall from her lips. 

“We’ll need to disrupt their chain of command if this is going to work,” she said. “We can’t just torch our vessels and run away screaming. They’ll protect their admiral at all costs, so if we want to prevent an angry pursuit we’ll have to board the ship he’s on and take him out first.” She paused and looked from face to face, her gaze coming to rest on Chrom’s. “I’d say we should send a small squad of our strongest troops to commandeer their lead ship. Chrom, as our best captain I’d have you lead the squad, but you are also our prince and general, so…”

Chrom tilted his chin up. “So no one can order me not to fight. I will lead the assault!” 

Fleur shook her head and smirked. That man was as headstrong as he was dedicated. “Then this plan truly stands a chance.”

Chrom clapped her on the back and chuckled. “You know, so much has changed since we found you that day, lying face-down in the muck by the side of the road. You were in such bad shape we would’ve sent you off to the undertaker had Lissa not noticed your breathing. Hard to believe you now determine the fate of our entire army...our entire people, even. Destiny has a strange way.”

The mention of destiny struck Fleur like a stray minor chord in an upbeat tune. The idea of fate had been plaguing her for weeks and she finally understood why. Slowly, like she was realizing the meaning of her words just after she spoke them, she said, “No, Chrom...not destiny. We are not pawns of some scripted fate. I believe we’re more than that.”

The creak of the ship and its rhythmic crashing into the water below punctuated the brief silence that followed. Then Chrom tilted his head and said, “How do you mean?”

Fleur bit her cheek in focus, trying to solidify the nebulous idea in her head. “The bonds that we forge together, which we strengthen and break and which guide our fates, they exist because we made them. Whatever happens to us because of them is engendered by our choices, not some predetermined ‘destiny.’” As she spoke, she felt clearer, lighter, stronger. Like her dread of the doom that Lucina foretold had manifested like an illness, a strange dense fog that poisoned her with each breath. But now that she’d cut her ties from destiny, she felt weightless. Like a newly-born demigod, raw with freedom and self-conviction.

“Fleur…” Chrom said, squinting. “I think all this salty sea air has gone to your head!” 

As he laughed, Fleur rolled her eyes so hard she thought she’d see her brain. “Weren’t you _just_ badgering me to open up more?”

Still giggling, Chrom patted her shoulder again. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect a philosophical lecture out of the blue.”

Fleur sighed and shrugged him off. “Fine, fine, enough of that then. There are still details to discuss.”

“Indeed there are! And preparations to be made!” Chrom declared as he walked off. He paused in his pace and turned back to add, “Oh, and Fleur -- if we are bound together like you say, I thank the gods I got stuck with you.”

Fleur tried to think of something witty to respond with, but she simply opened and closed her mouth, hoping that her expression wasn’t too dumbfounded.

“Now then, everyone!” Chrom shouted, turning back to his task. “Look lively! We have work to do!”

\--

“Frederick, go off to bed. I’ll put the fire out before I turn in.”

The knight glanced up at Fleur from where he squatted beside the campfire, his arm frozen in the midst of its prodding. “Are you certain?”

Fleur nodded, leaning forward on her log into the warmth. It was well past sundown, and although it was Frederick’s duty and pleasure to tend to campfires, she knew she was going to be up much later than anyone else and couldn’t in good conscience keep him awake. There was a lot she had to mull over before she could sleep.

Frederick stood up. “Remember to be thorough this time. If I wake up to a small forest blaze again…”

“I got it, I got it,” Fleur said with a wave of her hand. “Honestly, you are so paranoid. It was one time.”

Frederick squinted at her and frowned, but decided she didn’t need another scolding and turned to go. “Don’t stay up all night.”

“Goodnight, Frederick,” Fleur said without turning around. 

When he was gone, the tactician stared blindly into the flickering orange light and tried to parse the past few days. The fireball fleet plan she’d drawn up had actually worked, thanks to Chrom’s successful elimination of the Valmese admiral, but it had hardly been smooth sailing to port. She’d had to organize a counter strategy immediately upon docking in Valm; not only had troops been waiting there for them, but Chrom had ordered their army to aid a woman on shore who had been under siege. Minimizing casualties on a shore approach from the water was challenging enough, but once the battle was over Fleur quickly realized her life was about to get a lot harder. The woman in distress, Say’ri, implored aid for her rebel cause and Chrom, being Chrom, was hard-pressed to refuse her. Fleur had resumed her tactician position before they crossed the sea because she was convinced that Ylisse had to be protected, but she wasn’t ready to organize a rebellion. She wished that Chrom had thought it over for more than five seconds before pledging his forces to Say’ri’s cause. 

In the end, Fleur wouldn’t have objected to the decision, because allying with the dynasts would make it easier to bring down Walhart. But on the other hand, she now had to completely re-allocate their resources and scrap most of the plans she had started on. And now that Say’ri had suggested a march to the Mila Tree in order to set free the Voice of Naga and unite the dynasts around their faith, Fleur had to mentally prepare herself for whatever the Voice would have to say. With all her inner tension around her past involvement in the Grimleal cult, Fleur didn’t know what she would do if the Voice’s insight were to contribute to her fears. 

She sat back and breathed in deep, staring at the stars overhead for a few moments in silence. The smoke of the campfire quelled her nerves; its odor reminded her of the first night she had spent with Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick after they’d found her. She could almost taste the strips of bear meat she had ravenously ripped apart, each bite seeming to leave her hungrier than the last. She hadn’t even been listening to the chatter around her, she’d just been happy to be fed and safe and sitting before a warm fire. Now, as she listened to the swell of chirping insects alongside the popping firewood, she wondered if she would go back to that carefree time if she could. But for all the struggles and agony she’d suffered since then, she decided she wouldn’t trade the tough but fulfilling life she had now for a simpler, quieter one for any price. Her pegasus would miss her too much.

Heaving the world’s deepest sigh, Fleur stood and fetched a bucket of water to start extinguishing the fire. She was mixing the cool ashes with the surrounding soil when the sound of a woman’s shriek startled her into dropping her stick. When she whipped her head around and realized that the noise had come from Cordelia’s tent, she leapt up and ran towards it in a dead sprint. She felt her blood tingling under her skin as she forced the tent flap aside, the moonlight streaming onto Cordelia’s form where she laid on her bedroll. 

She appeared to be asleep. Pursing her lips, Fleur scanned the rest of the tent and saw no one else. She debated whether she should just mind her own business and go off to bed herself, but she knew she had heard screaming. She stood in the tent opening for a moment longer before gingerly kneeling down at Cordelia’s side. 

Fleur nearly leapt out of her skin when Cordelia automatically turned toward her and reached for her hands. “Fleur...oh, Fleur...are you there?” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep. 

Was she sleep-talking? Fleur couldn’t decide whether hearing her name called out like that was more exciting if Cordelia had done it consciously or not. She gave her hands to the other woman, who grasped them tightly as though they would break if she dropped them. “I’m here, Cordelia,” she ventured. 

A pair of glistening crimson eyes opened and looked up at Fleur with such vulnerability that Fleur felt like she was intruding on something she wasn’t meant to see. As she stared down into that face, forgetting completely how to say words, she noticed a cold tear race out of the corner of Cordelia’s eye and splash onto her pillow. “You’re here,” Cordelia whispered, a slight catch in her throat.

Fleur swallowed. “I-I heard you shouting,” she stammered.

Cordelia squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lips. “I saw my sisters,” she croaked after a moment. “Dying, struck down in droves. The screaming. Sometimes the dreams are just that horrible sound. Dying, dying...dying for me. For nothing.” 

“They died for you because they loved you,” Fleur rushed to say, tightening her hold on the hand in her grasp. Seeing Cordelia in so much pain forced her throat into an emotional tightness and she blinked to keep her own tears at bay. 

“We didn’t have enough time together,” Cordelia said, her voice wet with tears. “I only learned...how much they loved me...in those last, awful moments!” 

Fleur couldn’t take it anymore. Before she could reconsider, she leaned down and wrapped Cordelia up in her arms, petting her braided red hair while the woman sobbed into her shoulder. Shaking hands reached up and clutched at Fleur’s back, her fingers hooking into the fabric of her undershirt. Her sobs became louder, hitching and wailing, and Fleur just kept stroking and holding her until they finally died down to quiet hiccups. 

At length, Cordelia mumbled, “I’m sorry,” into Fleur’s shirt. 

“Don’t be.” She began to release her hold on the other woman, drawing back. “But if you’re feeling better, I should --”

Cordelia held on to her wrist. “Stay,” she whispered.

“Wh-what?”

Cordelia blushed, but she held Fleur’s gaze. “Please stay with me.” 

A quiet moment passed between them that emphasized the silence of the night. Then Fleur relaxed her shoulders and gave in. It was impossible to deny those teary eyes.

Cordelia scooted closer to the edge of the tent, holding the thin blanket over her bedroll open once Fleur had removed her boots and belts and taken down her hair. The tactician laid down beside her, pin-straight on her back with her hands folded on her stomach. She was intimately aware of every point of contact their bodies shared, and tried her best to minimize them for Cordelia’s comfort. 

They had lain together in silence for a while, knowing that the other was awake but too anxious to speak, when Cordelia suddenly asked Fleur to hold her.

“A-are you sure?” Fleur breathed. 

The other woman nodded wordlessly and turned on her side to face the tent canvas, tucking her long braid over her shoulder as she did so. Fleur gulped and edged toward her, winding her arm around Cordelia’s waist and resting her forehead on the back of her neck. While she laid feeling the steady rise and fall of her ribcage, Fleur drank in her gentle scent: hay, lilies, and an unnamable something that stirred up her belly. She hoped to Naga that Cordelia couldn’t feel her hammering heart pressed against her back.

Fleur had been certain she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes for a moment between her breathless anxiety and her dreamy contentment, but it was only a matter of minutes before all the worries of war and fear of the future slipped out of her mind. At peace for the first time in what felt like ages, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [revs engines] It's happening
> 
> a little bit ago i commissioned twitter user @catskid100 to draw fleur and cordelia in an alternate ending to chapter 3 of this fic where cordelia accepts fleur’s feelings instead of running away ;v; it’s so beautiful and i just can’t stop looking at it, here it is: https://twitter.com/fleurdeiia/status/975938737896116226?s=21


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fleur's inner conflict can't be pushed down any longer. Will she overcome it or let the shame swallow her?

The sound of her name called from outside snatched Fleur’s mind from its serene slumber. She jolted upright with irritation and alarm as though she had been splashed with icy water, and it was a minute before her consciousness caught up with her.

On the bedroll, still curled intimately close toward Fleur, Cordelia stirred. Fleur stared down, lips pulled tight and eyes rounder than the full moon, swallowing dryly as she remembered where she was and what had happened before she’d fallen asleep. She glanced at herself and her face exploded with heat when she saw that her breast had escaped the confines of her shirt. She hurried to cover it and was just barely quick enough in tucking it away before Cordelia blinked her eyes open.

Cordelia groggily brought her gaze up to meet Fleur’s, but instead of reacting with panic, she sighed and relaxed into an easy smile. “You stayed…” she mumbled.

Fleur was rescued from her dumbstruck bafflement by the voice outside calling her name again. Instead of responding in any sort of emotionally coherent manner, she scrambled to her feet and rushed to escape the tent. Outside in the morning mist, Gaius was scanning the camp, squinting in concentration. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted her name again, cutting himself off abruptly when he turned and saw Fleur approaching him.

“Where’d you just come from, Bubbles?” he said, placing his hands on his hips. “Whole army’s been lookin’ for ya. Ol’ Blue seems convinced you were kidnapped in the night.”

Fleur pinched the bridge of her nose. Chrom’s friendly concern was edging on overbearing. “There’s no reason for him to be so paranoid about me. I was just...out surveying the surrounding terrain. For our next march,” she said, blurting out the first lie that came to mind with as much confidence as she could fake.

Gaius looked her up and down and raised an orange eyebrow. “That right? Just got an early start scouting enemy territory all on your own, in your skivvies like that?”

Fleur bit her lips and forced herself to hold his gaze and not look down in shame. “Um. Yes.”

Gaius guffawed and rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I ain’t Chrom, since lying to your commanding officer is no joke.” He eyed her and shifted his pose. “But then again, Chrom probably wouldn’t notice that you pulled that excuse out of your ass to cover up how you just spent the night shagging Cordelia,” he said, crossing his arms and giving Fleur the most shit-eating grin she’d ever seen.

Fleur groaned. “I was hoping you wouldn’t know whose tent that was…”

Gaius chuckled. “One of these days you’ll learn that you can’t hide anything from me.”

“But I wasn’t with her like… _that_ , and I swear on the Fire Emblem that if you run your cavity-filled mouth off to Cordelia or anyone else, heads will bloody roll,” Fleur threatened, hoping that despite her compromised position she could still intimidate the man. She could handle her own scandalous rumors; there had always been snide, boorish remarks in the background of her life about her preference for women, but she would not allow Cordelia to become the target of petty gossip. Cordelia had reached out to a trusted friend in a moment of weakness, nothing more, and with all the guilt already plaguing that poor woman, the last thing Fleur wanted was to contribute to her self-consciousness in opening up to others.

Gaius held his hands up. “Not a peep from me, Bubbles. I may be shallow, but I’m no snitch.”

“Thank you,” Fleur sighed. “Now then, I should probably go track down Chrom and put him at ease…” she trailed off as she started toward the front of camp, but Gaius grabbed the back of her shirt and stopped her. She turned around to see him pointing down at her body with his lips pursed and brows raised.

“Right,” Fleur said after a quick glance downward. “Change first.”

\--

Fleur had anticipated a confrontation with the Valmese army before they reached the Mila Tree, but even so, the scouts’ reports of Cervantes’s troops waiting for them made her feel weary and exasperated. Leading an army through enemy territory was a process so slow it felt like they were going backwards more often than not. As she listened to the reports on the composition of the other army, she fantasized about a world in which her job was easy. No having to account for every nightmare scenario in her meticulous plans, no facing incessant opposition from Ylisse’s enemies at her every move, no staying up all night trying to minimize casualties or striving not to think about those she couldn’t save. Just peacefully guiding a herd of soldiers on a smooth journey from point A to point B, like an actual shepherd.

The trenches and mounds of the Mila Tree’s roots made movement for foot soldiers complicated, so Fleur’s strategy relied heavily on the mobility of fliers to pick off Cervantes’s troops. Fortunately, the opposing general himself was advancing at a turtle’s pace because of his obscenely heavy armor, making the Ylisseans’ movement advantage a critical one. Fleur directed her troops in conjunction with Cordelia, who relayed the tactician’s orders to the Pegasus Knights under her charge. Fleur watched the captain command authority with her soldiers, glowing with a particular confidence that she only showed on the battlefield. Cordelia’s strong image, standing in her stirrups with her powerful thighs unwavering even as her steed hovered ten meters off the ground, was dangerously entrancing to Fleur. If she were any sort of wordsmith she could’ve composed a ballad right then and there, inspired to poetry by the glistening of Cordelia’s perfect white Pegasus, by the way she directed her troops with broad sweeps of her lance, by the crimson whip of her hair in the wind.

Cordelia must have noticed Fleur staring, because she turned and met her gaze with confusion. With the full force of those warm eyes directed at her, Fleur was smacked out of nowhere with the memory of wrapping her arms around Cordelia’s tense form and fitting their bodies together like a shell. Blushing and unwilling to confront her rising emotions, Fleur mumbled some incoherent sentiment, spurred Killer, and flew away to the front lines.

The battle was over in short order, and Cervantes gathered his shattered reinforcements and ordered a retreat. Chrom seemed to want to chase them, but Fleur shot the idea down. They couldn’t waste resources pursuing an army through enemy lands, and besides, they weren’t there to fight Valm anyway. Above their heads, somewhere atop the massive sighing boughs, the Voice of Naga was waiting with something to say, and Fleur wasn’t about to try her patience.

With a steep, long climb to the top of the tree, it was prudent to have the army remain at the base, not only because leading hundreds of troops up the narrow stairway was infeasible, but also to protect those climbing up the one-way path in case Cervantes decided to come back. Only the Exalted family and a select few associated comrades made the trek.

Somewhere around halfway up, about fifteen minutes after they started climbing, Lucina fell back in her pace to step in line with Fleur. The tactician smiled at her, trying to seem unassuming even though Lucina brought along an air of solemnity everywhere she went. “Legs burning yet, princess?” she asked with a jovial tilt of her chin.

Lucina ducked her head politely. She was always so formal, even with Chrom. It seemed counterintuitive; if Fleur had been forced through an apocalyptic wasteland, manners would’ve been the first thing to go. “My body is used to being on the move. It’ll take a lot more than this to exhaust me,” she said. “Are you holding up?”

Fleur laughed. “Well now, if I say no, I’ll just feel like a weakling in the face of your hard-earned endurance. So I will leave my answer a mystery,” she said. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

“I did,” Lucina replied. “During the last battle, I couldn’t help but notice some strange orders of yours. You diverted some advanced flying troops toward the south end where I was fighting instead of taking advantage of their forward position. That move seemed inefficient to me. Why did you do that?”

Lucina’s tactical scrutiny left Fleur feeling somewhat anxious. She fidgeted for a moment before answering, “I…well, you were outnumbered by lance fighters. It seemed like you were in trouble, and fliers were able to reach your position much faster than infantry or cavalry. I may have forfeited an offensive advantage, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself.”

“Why couldn’t you?” Lucina asked, her steady gaze locked to Fleur’s.

“P-Pardon?”

“Why was it so important to protect me?” she rephrased.

“Lucina, you’re—” Fleur stammered. Her reasoning felt silly to explain out loud. “You’re my best friend’s daughter, and an Exalt besides. Protecting you and your family is my priority. Not to mention I happen to have a personal stake in your safety. I know you’re a capable fighter, but—”

“Fleur, stop,” Lucina cut her off, shaking her head. “None of that matters. You don’t understand. In the future, no corner of the world is safe for humanity. Risen prowl the land as masters of all. The people cower in terror, utterly helpless.”

Fleur blinked and struggled for words. “It...sounds like a nightmare come true. I can scarcely imagine it.”

“It is a hell on earth,” Lucina confirmed. “That is why we cannot – we _must not_ – lose this war. Do you see that? The power to avert my future lies in your hands, and it is no small burden. You must do everything in your power to avert catastrophe.”

“I…I will do everything that I can, Lucina.”

“But you haven’t,” Lucina asserted. “You took a costly risk in the last battle to protect someone non-essential. Listen to me now. If sacrificing me, or anyone else but my father, is what it takes to win the day, then that’s what you must do. Do not hesitate. If you must be ruthless, be ruthless. Kind gestures will mean less than nothing if Grima is resurrected.”

Fleur searched the princess’s eyes, finding only decisive judgment and unwavering purpose. It broke Fleur’s heart to hear words like this coming from someone she cared about, from an innocent girl who should’ve had the world. Fleur hadn’t been there to protect her in the future, and Lucina wouldn’t allow her to protect her now. Helplessness bore a hole through her chest, leaving her hollow and aching.

“Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes,” Lucina said. “Swear it.”

“Only if you swear me something in return.”

Lucina blinked, not expecting a bargain. “What is it?”

Fleur exhaled. “If you won’t let me take care of you, promise to take care of yourself.”

“Wh-what?” Lucina said, a rare blush flushing her cheeks.

Fleur continued. “The burden on your shoulders is suffocating, I know, but there’s no need to bear it on your own. Your life isn’t a neutral asset to give or take away, it means everything to the people around you. You talk of Chrom’s wellbeing, but what do you think would happen to him if you were to collapse under the strain?”

Lucina looked down. “That won’t happen. I…can handle it.”

“I don’t doubt it, Lucina,” Fleur said. “But keeping all your suffering to yourself when there are resources right here for you is what I would call risky and disadvantageous. You have friends ready to aid you in whatever you face. Your father has an entire army ready to fight and die for him. …And you also have me on your side, for whatever that’s worth.”

“It…it is worth a great deal,” Lucina said, and there seemed a barely detectable wobble to her voice.

Fleur’s serious expression smoothed into a reassuring smile, and she put a hand on Lucina’s shoulder. “I will never truly understand the world you came from and what you had to face. But I do know that we can help you and that you can help yourself. If you promise me to let yourself be a little freer, I promise you that I’ll do whatever it takes to win this war.”

Lucina sniffled and nodded, looking up at the other woman’s face with softness behind her eyes for once. “You have my word.”

“Then you have mine.”

\--

Naga’s Voice was a being far more fragile than Fleur had been imagining. Say’ri had taken a knee before the divine dragon, still enshrouded in a lingering mist. Chrom and his party had followed suit, and as Fleur knelt on the solid lattice of branches at the tree’s summit she felt her heart racing in anticipation. Up until this point the only manakete she’d met was Nowi, who was hardly awe-inspiring, despite being a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Her childish appearance and carefree demeanor had Fleur often forgetting that she was occasionally an ancient, fire-breathing dragon. But the prospect of meeting the Voice of Naga, a holy beast suspended in time since the epic age of the Hero-King, sent a shiver through Fleur’s body.

“Lady Tiki!” Say’ri called, with her head still bowed. “Are you here? Prithee answer!”

The summon was met with the gentlest, most vulnerable yawn as a figure emerged toward them. A woman no taller than Fleur stumbled forward, stretching her slender arms above her fluffy, grass-green bedhead. A handmaiden, perhaps?

As Fleur squinted at the woman, Say’ri stood and bowed to her. “Ah, my lady…I am so relieved to see you are alright.”

Before Fleur could speak aloud her confusion, Lucina did it for her. “So you’re Lady Tiki? She who speaks for the divine dragon?” she said. Fleur was hesitant to disrespect this ancient power, but she seemed so…breakable. She looked more mature than Nowi, perhaps, but less than half as sturdy. She reminded Fleur of tender buds growing during the start of spring, showing their pale, hopeful faces only to be wiped out by a late frost.

Tiki rubbed her eyes and approached Lucina. “…Marth?” she said hesitantly, a strange lilting accent on her voice. “Oh, Mar-Mar, is that you?”

Lucina’s face reddened. “M-My name is Lucina, milady…though I did go by the name Marth for a time. Might we have met?”

Tiki cast her eyes downward and sighed. “…Alas, no. You reminded me of someone I knew. But he is gone now. Lost during my endless sleep…”

Lucina seemed stricken for words. She was a woman intimately familiar with loss, but perhaps no amount of dead loved ones could harden her heart to grief, or make it any easier to console those left behind.

Fortunately, Tiki seemed to recover herself, replacing the serene smile on her face. “You and your father are of the exalted bloodline, are you not?”

Chrom spoke up. “Yes, milady.”

“Do you yet possess the Fire Emblem?” Tiki asked, turning her sleepy gaze to him. “It should have been passed down through your family…”

Chrom glanced at Fleur, who nodded. “I…yes, I have it,” he said, handing over the artifact from its place on his arm.

“Ah!” Tiki exclaimed. “What a relief that it has not been lost…But where are the Gemstones? I see only Argent.”

“Gemstones?”

The Voice went on to explain that the Fire Emblem was missing some of the components necessary to perform the awakening. Say’ri and Basilio revealed where Vert and Gules could be found, and Tiki gifted Azure to Chrom directly. That left only Sable, and although no one seemed to know where it could be hidden, Fleur had an ominous suspicion that she decided to keep to herself.

Tiki gave Azure to Chrom with the urgent instruction to perform the awakening and stop the resurrection of Grima. As he took the gemstone, Chrom looked at her with pinched brows. “But I thought Grima was sealed away,” he said, citing the famous legend passed down through the ages.

Tiki closed her eyes. “Yes, but ever since, there have been those who would change that. Grima’s life force grows even now, and with it, the long shadows of despair.”

Fleur looked to Lucina, who appeared sterner than ever. Her jaw was clenched and her fist was wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword. The idea of Grima’s resurrection being nearer than she remembered clearly did not sit well with her.

“When will he return?” Chrom asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. “And where?”

“I cannot know these things,” Tiki said, shaking her head. “But I can feel his presence. It looms…closer and closer…” Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and she looked at Fleur with such intensity that the tactician was afraid she was about to throw her off the edge of the tree.

“You…” she said, stepping close. “You have a power like mine.”

“What do you mean?” Fleur said slowly.

The purposeful stare faltered and Tiki put her head in her hands. “I…forgive me. I am still groggy from my slumber. My words outpace my thoughts.” Say’ri was attending to her in an instant, gently grasping her hands and leading her away to lie back down.

As the party began their descent back to the base, Fleur could feel Chrom’s eyes on her, and she refused to look his way. He knew that the last thing she wanted to hear from Naga’s Voice would be hints at who she really was -- more reasons why she couldn’t just opt for blissful ignorance of her past and live the life she chose. It was unclear whether Fleur was really some divine vessel like Tiki, but if she was, she felt confident she wasn’t chosen by Naga. Perhaps she had been not only a Grimleal priestess, but something like Grima’s prophet. The mere notion made Fleur’s stomach lurch with anxiety. 

How much longer could she outrun her identity?

\--

That night, the army settled down a few miles west of the Mila Tree. They had to cut their march short on account of rain, and set up camp just before sunset. Fleur had been playing cards with Sully and Sumia over dinner, but even the jovial company of her dear friends couldn’t get her mind off of her newly-deepened worries. The tactician barely touched her salted pork over rice, and gave it to Sully to polish off before she excused herself from the table and wandered outside.

For a minute she let the raindrops pelt her upturned face, staring past the thick canopy high above her to glimpse the blue-grey sky. She breathed in the scent of wet soil, and it spurred a rare emotion in her: nostalgia. The fat drops falling off the distant leaves streaked down her face like heavy tears for a moment until she sighed, wiped her face with her sleeve and headed off toward the strategy tent.

Shouldering past the tent flap, Fleur saw Chrom standing with his back to her, leaning over the table in the center, a lantern flickering on his left. Wordlessly, she entered and sidled up beside him, crossing her arms. He was tapping a quill on a map of Valm, concentrating on some notes about the five gemstones he’d drawn up. “Strategizing, are we?” Fleur said. “What, are you going to fire me?” she said.

Chrom smirked and glanced sideways at her. “Two heads are better than one, though you’ll never admit it.”

“Anything you can do, I can do better,” she joked, elbowing him.

Chrom rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should fire you. Someone needs to take that ego down a peg.”

“Many have tried. I’m afraid it’s a lost cause,” Fleur shrugged. “But I didn’t come here just to brag. I need to talk to you.”

At her serious tone, Chrom put down his quill and turned to face her. “What is it?”

“It’s…about what Lady Tiki said to me today. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“That weird comment about you having a power like hers?”

Fleur nodded. “It sounded weird to me too at first, but…remember, I don’t know anything about myself, really. I have no grounds for doubting others’ insight about my identity. And between being Validar’s heir, my lookalike being a Grimleal hierophant, and now this…I can’t disregard the possibility that I’m the equivalent of Grima’s Voice.”

“But you’re not a dragon,” Chrom said. Fleur could always count on him to point out the obvious.

“Well, maybe I am, I don’t know! I’ve never tried to use a dragonstone. Or maybe I don’t have to be a manakete. It’s beside the point.” Fleur waved her hand dismissively.

“Which is…?”

Fleur sighed. “The point is that we can’t keep looking the other way about all this evidence pointing to a connection between me and the Fell Dragon. Continuing to do so would be irresponsible, and potentially dangerous. Maybe Plegia could use my position to target you. I don’t know. There’s so much I don’t understand about this, and it just keeps getting more sinister.”

Chrom narrowed his eyes. “If you’re suggesting that the Shepherds cast you out because of this…”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting,” Fleur said, shaking her head. “Not yet, at least. I’m suggesting that I tell the rest of the Shepherds what we’ve been hiding. They need to know the truth about who’s leading them.”

Chrom shifted his stance and eyed her. “Are you…are you sure you want to do that?”

Fleur bit her lip for a moment before looking away. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “The Shepherds are my family, my home. They’re all I have, all I’ve known since I awoke from the darkness. My greatest fear is being turned away by them…but that’s all the more reason that I can’t keep abusing their loyalty. If this part of my past could hurt them, then…I can’t keep them in ignorance of that danger just because I’m afraid of what they’d say.”

A pause followed, and after a moment Chrom put his hand on Fleur’s shoulder. “I think you should tell them.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Your devotion to protecting your friends says far more about who you are than any possible connection to Grima could. The Shepherds love you, and I’m certain they will see that.”

“Chrom…”

The prince gave her a reassuring smile. “And if it helps to quell your fears, I know I will never turn my back on you, even if you turn out to be Grima himself.”

Fleur snorted. “As your tactician, I feel compelled to advise you against that course of action.”

“Overruled,” Chrom said, tilting his chin up. “You can’t get rid of me with your logic.”

In an unprecedented swell of sentimental fondness, Fleur wrapped her arms around her friend and hugged him tight. Chrom took a moment to be surprised at the sudden display of affection, but then squeezed her around the shoulders in turn. When Fleur released him, she swiftly went back to the tent’s entrance. “Thanks for being on my side,” she said over her shoulder, and then slipped back out into the rainy darkness. 

\--

Fleur had asked Frederick to gather the troops after breakfast for an important announcement at dawn. Naga only knows what they were expecting to hear when Fleur stood up at the front of the crowd, but it certainly wasn’t what she was about to say. She had practiced and reworded her speech in her head over and over before she fell into a restless sleep the night before. She hoped that it would be enough to keep her from faltering as she addressed her soldiers. She looked from face to face, noticing more than usual their friendly, open expressions. She saw Sully standing close to Sumia, Maribelle crossing her arms next to Lissa near the front, Olivia waiting attentively while Gaius slouched nearby. Fleur hoped against reason that Cordelia wouldn’t be there, but of course she caught sight of her near the back, mounted on her pegasus. Fleur made herself promise not to watch her as she spoke.

Beside her, Chrom clapped his hand heavily on her shoulder, and she looked up at him and nodded. The prince stepped forward and addressed the army. “Shepherds, thank you for gathering on such short notice. We are here this morning to listen to our tactician, Fleur, who has sensitive information to share. Please lend her your attention.”

Fleur acknowledged him and stood in his place. “Thank you, my friends,” she began, noting the hesitant questioning looks in the audience. “As you know, I am afflicted with a rare form of memory loss, and I don’t recall anything about my life before I met Chrom and joined you all not long ago. For a long time, this was just a strange quirk about me, but now it has become more than that.

“Recently, details have surfaced about my past that are not only disturbing to me, personally, but which may impact those that I lead.” She paused to take a slow breath. “Details that implicate me in high orders of the Grimleal cult. King Validar himself claimed me as his child, which, if true, also places me in the ruling class of a hostile nation. 

“My Shepherds, I need you to know that Ylisse will be attempting to gather all parts of the Fire Emblem in case the need to perform an awakening arises in the near future. The Voice of Naga, as well as Chrom’s daughter Lucina, have warned us that the resurrection of the Fell Dragon Grima is much closer than any of us thought. There is a real chance that Ylisse’s armies will be pitted against the Grimleal to keep Grima sealed. With all of this in mind...I wanted to inform you that the tactician plotting this army’s moves was likely once in the ranks of an enemy that we may soon need to face.”

Fleur stopped, and looked out at the changes in her friends’ expressions. Olivia had her brows drawn, a hand over her mouth. Sully was looking at the ground, Lucina’s expression was somewhere between grim and weary. Fleur couldn’t bring herself to search out Cordelia’s face. 

“That’s all I wanted to tell you,” she said, resigned. She then unceremoniously walked off to the side and went to find her tent, leaving Chrom to deal with closure and dismissal, listening to the troubled murmurs of the crowd fade out the faster she walked. 

She tore into her tent and collapsed onto her bedroll, hugging her elbows. They knew now. They all knew, and she could never take it back. Part of her was relieved to have her most scandalous secrets made public, in some twisted way she felt freer now. But mostly, she was terrified. She was reminded of how she felt the moment her love confession to Cordelia was met with a shattered glass and a turned heel, leaving her standing numbly in the aftermath with the dawning realization that she hadn’t weighed the risks appropriately. She had thought she could forfeit Cordelia’s friendship as long as she made her feelings known, and as a result had to live in the daily agony of not seeing her at all for a full year. Now that she’d told all of her loved ones something much darker, what consequences would she have to face? Why in Naga’s name had she thought making this knowledge public would be worth risking their contempt? She leaned forward and tried to suppress the ache within her, squeezing her eyes shut and groaning. 

“Fleur?” called a voice from outside.

Fleur couldn’t discern the speaker’s identity through her distress, but it didn’t matter. There was no one she wanted to see right now. “Leave me,” she responded.

A pause. “It’s Cordelia. May I please come in?”

Fleur hesitated; she wanted to be alone and she was a little afraid of what Cordelia had to say to her, but she was reluctant to turn her away. The other woman must’ve taken her silence as permission to enter, because she slid past the canvas flaps and stood before Fleur, rubbing her arm awkwardly. 

“Are you okay?” she ventured, her voice tender and unassuming. 

Fleur tried to laugh, but it sounded pathetic and she hated the noise as soon as she made it. “I’m fine. No complaints here.”

Cordelia bit her lip, her grip on her arm tightening. “...May I sit?” 

Fleur shrugged and gestured to the space beside her. Why not? This was already happening. She felt the thin bedroll depress as Cordelia gingerly seated herself to her left, but didn’t look up at her.

For several minutes they sat together in a silence so tense Fleur swore she could’ve run it through with her lance. 

“Fleur...no one thinks ill of you because of this,” Cordelia finally said in a near-whisper. 

Fleur scoffed. “You don’t know that.”

“Let me rephrase that, then. I don’t think ill of you because of this.”

“You probably should.”

“Why won’t you look at me?” Cordelia asked, hurt weighing on her tone. 

With great effort, Fleur dragged her gaze up to meet the other woman’s. Cordelia smiled and wiped an errant tear from Fleur’s cheek with her thumb. “That’s better.”

Fleur tried not to think about how that simple touch had sent lightning up her spine and shook her head. “Cordelia...didn’t you hear anything I said?” she asked. “Validar’s daughter? Grima’s servant? Impending resurrection of the Fell Dragon? None of that bothers you?”

“It bothers me if it bothers you. I hate to see you in pain.”

Fleur grit her teeth and smoothed her bangs back from her face. “With every new revelation of my past, the good person I thought I was slips away a little more. This army is one freakish detail away from being spearheaded by a goddamn monster. Of course it bothers me.”

Cordelia frowned. “You’ve spoken to me like this before, when you recovered from fainting after meeting King Validar. I didn’t understand it then and I don’t understand it now. How can someone who has chosen to do so much good believe that at her core she is evil?”

“Cordelia--”

“You are the reason I’m alive right now, Fleur. You’re the reason any of us are alive, the agent of hope for thousands of people. I would be dead on a battlefield, or in my tent, or in my mind today if you hadn’t saved me again and again. I cannot overstate what you mean to me.” 

Fleur was feeling so many emotions that they all crowded at the base of her throat and forced tears from her eyes again. “My faith in myself has already been shattered,” she croaked.

“Then you have me,” Cordelia responded, taking Fleur’s trembling hands in her own. “I’m not afraid.”

Fleur threw her head back in exasperation. “Cordelia, what do I have to tell you to--”

Suddenly, Fleur found herself silenced by the pressure of lips on her own. Before she had any time to process the delicate sensation, Cordelia had drawn away, leaning their foreheads together with a hand on the back of Fleur’s neck. 

“Do you understand now?” Cordelia whispered. “Will you stop pushing me away?” 

An innumerable swarm of confused protests hammered Fleur’s brain before she finally managed to stammer, “H-How long?”

Cordelia laughed lightly against Fleur’s skin and rubbed her thumb on her neck. “I’ve been blind, Fleur, so blind. This...this isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but...I couldn’t stand another second of you thinking my love for you is conditional.”

Warm tears kept pouring down Fleur’s face, and began to be mirrored on Cordelia’s. She was halfway convinced she was dreaming or hallucinating somehow. How many times had she fantasized about this moment? How could this be the time it was real? “Love, huh?” she said, breathing an incredulous laugh. 

Cordelia nodded. “I don’t know exactly when I realized, but...I’m afraid it was far too late.”

“Not too late,” Fleur whispered. 

“Would you still have me?” Cordelia asked, and Fleur could feel her shaking. “After all of my foolishness and everything I put your poor heart through?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Fleur grasped Cordelia’s face and kissed her again, desperately, as though it was her only chance to give her all the love she’d forced herself to withhold. She felt the other woman’s lips falling into her rhythm, heard how their ragged breaths met each other’s pace, tasted the blue skies that she recognized from the pegasus’s back. Cordelia moved to press her body flush to Fleur’s, like she wanted to make up for the distance she’d imposed between them for so long. 

When they finally parted, Fleur smiled at Cordelia’s exhilarated blush. “Does that answer your question?”

\--

After all the turmoil of the past few months, Fleur decided it was time to find peace in simplicity. Not long ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated to complain about marching for the third week in a row, but now she was content to pick her feet up and direct her army to their destination, finding solace in the steady rhythm. Having fought through inordinately difficult battles, including one that enacted Fleur’s idea to fight inside a scorching volcano (which she still scarcely believed worked) the Shepherds were finally heading north to unseat Walhart himself. Fleur knew she was speaking for the whole army in that she was ready for this war to end. 

The tactician was reviewing her ledgers as she walked when she felt arms winding around her waist from behind and lips leaving a gentle peck on the side of her neck. 

Fleur turned her head and returned Cordelia’s kiss. “Have the Pegasus Knights bored you already?” 

“Do I need to be bored to come see you?” Cordelia asked coyly. “I don’t think I need a reason.”

Fleur turned her eyes back to the numbers in her book. “But you have one, don’t you?” 

Cordelia laughed and released her to walk at her side. “Your skepticism knows no bounds, but alas, you are right. Did you know I spoke with Chrom earlier?”

“Oh?” Fleur said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I thought it was time to apologize for avoiding him and acting strangely all this time,” she said. “I...I told him all about the way I had built him up to be a symbol for something I thought I wanted. He seemed...receptive...but in hindsight I probably said too much.” 

Fleur couldn’t help but let loose a hearty laugh at the idea of Chrom smiling blankly while Cordelia confessed that she never actually loved him. She would have to give him a hard time about that later. “And did you get it all off your chest?” she asked.

“I think so,” Cordelia said. “Perhaps he would rather I hadn’t, but at least it’s done now and I don’t have to drag that uncomfortable part of myself around anymore.” 

“Well, I’m glad you did it,” Fleur said sincerely. If it was what Cordelia needed to do to move on and live as her true self, with the bonus of making Chrom feel awkward in the process, then Fleur gave it her heartfelt approval. And if Cordelia could leave behind aspects of her past that she was ashamed of, then what was to stop Fleur from doing the same? She looked sideways at the woman she loved who finally loved her back, and something in her heart shifted, like a dissonant chord resolving at last. 

Fleur was handling sums on her abacus while Cordelia walked beside her, humming some serene, familiar tune, when Frederick appeared to them on his horse. “News from the scouts,” he announced. 

“What is it?” Fleur asked, reminding herself not to sound too weary.

“A mercenary fortress is in our path, occupied by hostile Valmese. They are led by a former general by the name of Nelson and seem to have hostages.” 

Cordelia briefly placed a hand on Fleur’s shoulder before running back to rejoin the Knights. The tactician watched her go for a moment, then turned back to Frederick and nodded. “Organize a squadron,” she commanded. “The Conqueror will have to wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, that is Severa's paralogue at the end there) (Also, Lucina's conversation with Fleur is based on her supports with M!Robin because her supports with F!Robin are stupid and bad and I decided to fix it.)
> 
> That's a wrap! Thank you so much to everyone who read this fic, especially to those of you who left kudos and ESPECIALLY to those who left comments on every chapter :') Without your interest and support I definitely wouldn't have written this far! Your feedback means the world to me! 
> 
> Special thanks to Rowan (@ailuranthropy on twitter) and Kile (@lawyerfucker on twitter) for beta-ing and editing this whole fic! I seriously can't thank you guys enough!!! 
> 
> This fic has been my longest to date, as well as my biggest individual writing project! I'm proud of where it's at and I'm so happy I was able to do this for my fire emblem OTP <3 If you liked reading about Fleur and Cordelia, don't despair! This is hardly the last AO3 will see of them ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I know this ship doesn't get a lot of love but it is the light of my life and I need more fic about it. Next chapter will ramp up the drama.
> 
> Fleur is my custom falcon knight FMU, she looks like this: https://twitter.com/fleurdeiia/status/901961384623267840


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